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Romantic  Castles  and  Palaces 


As  Seen  and  Described 
by     Famous     Writers 

EDITED   AND   TRANSLATED 

BY   ESTHER   SINGLETON 

AUTHOR  OF  "  TURRETS,  TOWERS  AND  TEMPLES,"  "  GREAT  PICTURES," 
"  WONDERS  OF  NATURE,"  "  PARIS,"  AND  "  A  GUIDE  TO  THE  OPERA," 
AND  TRANSLATOR  OF  "  THE  MUSIC  DRAMAS  OF  RICHARD  WAGNER  " 

With  Numerous  Illustrations 


Copyright, 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 


First  edition,  published  October,  1901. 


Preface 


IN  making  a  selection  from  the  large  number  of  castles 
and  palaces  that  might  be  included,  I  have  endeav- 
oured to  choose   those   that  would   appeal  equally   to  the 
lovers  of  fine  architecture  and  to  the  lovers  of  history  and 
legend. 

There  is  probably  no  class  of  buildings  that  engages  the 
interest  of  so  many  different  minds  as  the  castle.  To  the 
architect,  such  strongholds  as  Conway,  Warwick,  Arundel, 
Lambeth,  Blois,  Caernavon,  Kronborg,  Windsor,  Urbino, 
Berkeley,  Amboise,  Loches,  etc.,  etc.,  are  valuable  studies. 
For  example,  Conway,  half  castle,  half  palace,  contains 
Early  Decorated  architecture  in  Queen  Eleanor's  Oratory 
and  fine  lancet  windows ;  the  donjon  of  Arundel  dates 
from  the  days  of  King  Alfred  ;  Warwick,  one  of  the  few 
mediaeval  fortresses  that  has  lasted  unchanged  from  the 
time  of  William  the  Conqueror  to  that  of  King  Edward 
VII.,  shows  us  what  Kenilworth  and  the  other  baronial 
castles  of  England  were  like ;  the  feudal  stronghold  of 
Berkeley  has  also  preserved  its  ancient  appearance  through 
seven  centuries;  Windsor  retains  its  Norman  Keep  and 
affords  a  splendid  example  of  the  dwelling-place  of  royalty  ; 
the  mediaeval  fortress  of  Amboise  with  its  Flamboyant 
Gothic  chapel  displays  a  wonderful  contrast  of  styles ;  and 


2212598 


VI 


PREFACE 


at  Blois  four  periods  of  architecture  may  be  contemplated 
side  by  side.  Turning  to  palaces,  it  is  sufficient  merely  to 
name  the  Ducal  Palace,  the  Alhambra,  Hampton  Court 
Palace,  Fontainebleau,  Chenonceaux,  Futtehpore-Sikri,  and 
the  Palace  of  Shah  Jehan  to  recall  the  wealth  that  exists  in 
such  vast  volumes  of  art  and  architecture.  The  Mikado's 
Palace,  and  the  Summer  Palace  at  Pekin  transport  us  into 
another  and  mysterious  world,  appealing  strongly  to  our 
imagination. 

The  castle  was  built  for  defence  as  well  as  for  a  dwell- 
ing-place ;  the  palace,  generally  speaking,  is  the  abode  of 
monarchs  or  nobles ;  and  as  both  have  been  the  scene  of 
plots,  imprisonments,  murders,  entertainments,  love-mak- 
ing, marriages,  births  and  deaths,  their  walls  enclose  in- 
numerable memories  of  history  and  legend.  As  the  most 
brilliant  displays  of  human  pleasure  and  the  blackest  mani- 
festations of  human  conduct  have  occurred  in  their  halls, 
towers  and  dungeons,  the  phantoms  of  the  most  striking 
characters  in  history  hover  amid  their  crumbling  and  ivy- 
clad  stones. 

In  every  castle  there  are  one  or  two  characters,  events, 
or  legends  that  dominate  all  the  others.  For  instance,  in 
the  Vaults  of  Kronborg  Holger  Danske  (Ogier  le  Danois, 
beloved  of  Morgan  le  Fay)  sleeps  ;  but  the  better-remem- 
bered legend  is  that  of  the  pale  ghost  that  walks  the  plat- 
form at  Elsinore  in  the  nipping  and  eager  air  of  midnight. 
Glamis  is  the  supposed  scene  of  Macbeth's  murder  of 
Duncan ;  Warwick  is  associated  with  the  legendary  Guy, 
the  Wars  of  the  Roses  and  the  great  Earl,  the  "  King- 


PREFACE  vii 

Maker;"  Linlithgow  is  rich  in  Stuart  memories, — it  was 
the  birthplace  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  ;  Caernavon  was  the 
birthplace  of  the  first  Prince  of  Wales;  Raby  was  the 
home  of  the  famous  Nevilles ;  Harry  Hotspur  dwelt  at 
Alnwick;  the  shadow  of  Louis  XL  darkens  Plessis-les- 
Tours ;  Wyclif,  Stephen  Langton  and  the  Lollards  cling  to 
Lambeth ;  Futtehpore-Sikri  recalls  the  splendours  of  the 
great  Akbar ;  Wolsey  dominates  Hampton  Court  Palace ; 
Catherine  de'Medici  presides  over  Chaumont ;  Charles 
VII.,  Joan  of  Arc  and  Agnes  Sorel  may  be  evoked  at 
Chinon ;  Berkeley  was  the  scene  of  the  murder  of  Ed- 
ward II. ;  Agnes  Sorel  is  again  at  Loches ;  Francois  L, 
Henri  IV.  and  Diane  de  Poictiers  haunt  Fontainebleau ; 
the  Riccardi  is  filled  with  Medici  crimes ;  the  sombre 
Vecchio  holds  memories  of  the  brilliant  and  wicked  Cosmo 
I. ;  and  as  the  entire  history  of  Florence  may  be  read  in 
the  walls  of  the  latter  palace,  so  all  the  events  and  phases 
of  Venetian  story  are  centred  in  the  Ducal  Palace. 
Chenonceaux,  "  the  fairy  palace  of  Armida,"  and  Kensing- 
ton are  exceptional  in  containing  no  stains  of  blood. 
Leigh  Hunt  aptly  remarks  :  "  Windsor  Castle  is  a  place  to 
receive  monarchs  in ;  Buckingham  Palace,  to  see  fashions 
in ;  Kensington  Palace  a  place  to  drink  tea  in,"  exhibit- 
ing "  the  domestic  side  of  royalty."  Its  gardens,  however, 
call  up  all  the  fashion,  beauty  and  wit  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century. 

We  may  suggest  to  the  lovers  of  beautiful  scenery 
that  the  pleasure  they  experience  is  often  largely  due  to  the 
presence  of  the  castle  in  the  landscape ;  and  we  may  re- 


VIII 


PREFACE 


mind  him,  what  an  important  feature  Turner  made  of  the 
castle  in  his  paintings.  Sometimes,  indeed,  he  went  so  far 
as  to  introduce  one  when  his  artistic  feeling  told  him  that  a 
peak  or  crag  was  incomplete  without  its  embattled  towers. 
What  would  the  rock  of  Edinburgh  be  without  "  Auld 
Reekie,"  or  the  parks  of  Arundel,  Berkeley,  or  Alnwick 
without  their  grey  towers  seen  through  vistas  framed  in 
foliage  ?  The  Wartburg  in  the  Thuringer  Forest,  and 
Stirling  and  Conway,  surrounded  by  the  mountains  of  Scot- 
land and  Wales,  are  also  notable  examples  of  the  aid  of  the 
castle  in  completing  the  picturesque  effect  of  the  landscape. 

The  translations  have  been  made  especially  for  this 
book;  and  in  order  to  give  as  much  continuous  history  of 
each  building  as  possible,  I  have  sometimes  been  compelled 
to  cut.  Otherwise,  the  essays  remain  unchanged. 

My  thanks  are  extended  to  Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin 
&  Co.  for  their  kind  permission  to  reprint  the  selections 
from  Hawthorne. 

E.  S. 
NEW  YORK,  August,  1901. 


Contents 

CONWAY  CASTLE 


GRANT  ALLEN. 

THE  DUCAL  PALACE         ...  .  .  8 

THEOPHILE  GAUTIER. 

PALACE  OF  LINLITHGOW  ...  21 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT. 

ARUNDEL  CASTLE  ,, 

jz 

ALICE  MEYNELL. 

PALAZZO  VECCHIO  .  .  .  .  .41 

ALEXANDRE  DUMAS. 

KENSINGTON  PALACE        ....  o 

LEIGH  HUNT. 

THE  MIKADO'S  PALACE  ...  61 

PIERRE  LOTI 

WARWICK  CASTLE  ....  68 

LADY  WARWICK. 

THE  ALHAMBRA  ...  78 


EDMONDO  DE  AMICIS. 
JOHN  RICHARD  GREEN. 
JULES  LOISELEUR. 


LAMBETH  PALACE  ...  go 


CHATEAU  DE  BLOIS  ...  qq 


FuTTEHPORE-SlKRl  .  .  t  Io(- 

LOUIS   ROUSSELET. 


x  CONTENTS 

CAERNAVON  CASTLE         .  .  .  •  ' '  5 

WILLIAM  HOWITT. 

A  BALL  AT  THE  WINTER  PALACE  .  .  .        1 24 

THEOPHILE  GAUTIER. 

FONTAINEBLEAU  .  .  .»  •  I  33 

GRANT  ALLEN. 

THE  RICCARDI  PALACE    .  .  .       143 

ALEXANDRE  DUMAS. 

RABY  CASTLE     .  ..  .  .  .  •       !53 

WILLIAM  HOWITT. 

CASTLE  DEL  MONTE         .  .  .  .  •       162 

I.     EDWARD  LEAR. 
II.     HENRY  SWINBURNE. 

THE  GENERALIFE  .....        169 

THEOPHILE  GAUTIER. 

CHATEAU  DE  CHENONCEAUX  .  .  .  .174 

JULES  LOISELEUR. 

DUBLIN  CASTLE  .  .  .  .  i?9 

LADY  WILDE. 

SANS  Souci  AND  OTHER  PRUSSIAN  PALACES  .  .183 

WILLIAM  HOWITT. 

WHITEHALL  PALACE        .  .  .  .  .190 

LEIGH  HUNT. 

THE  CASTLE  OF  KRONBORC          .  .  .  .199 

HORACE  MARRYAT. 

CHAUMONT  SUR  LOIRE     .  .  .  .  .210 

JULES  LOISELEUR. 

WINDSOR  CASTLE  .  .  .  .  217 

THE  MARQUIS  OF  LORNE. 


CONTENTS  xi 

THE  PALACE  OK  URBINO  .  22° 

JOHN  ADDINGTON  SYMONDS. 

ALNWICK  CASTLE  .  23° 

CUTHBERT  BEDE. 

THE  PALACE  OF  SAINT-CLOUD      ....        245 
J.  J.  BOURRASSEE. 

STIRLING  CASTLE  ^  .  •  •  254 

NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE. 

THE  PALACE  OF  THE  BOSPHORUS  .  .  •       259 

THEOPHILE  GAUTIER. 

PLESSIS-LES-TOURS  .  2°7 

J.  J.  BOURRASSEE. 

HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  .  .  .  •        275 

ERNEST  LAW. 

THE  PALACE  OF  SHAH  JEHAN         .  .  .  .285 

BHOLANAUTH  CHUNDER. 

EDINBURGH  CASTLE          .  .:-;",          .  .  .295 

I.   ROBERT  Louis  STEVENSON. 
II.  JAMES  NORRIS  BREWER. 

LAMBTON  CASTLE  .....        304 

WILLIAM  HOWITT. 

ARANJUEZ  .  .  .  .  .  3IQ 

EDMONDO  DE  AMICIS. 

GLAMIS  CASTLE  .  .  .  .  .314 

LADY  GLAMIS. 

CHATEAU  DE  CHINON       .  .  .  .  .321 

J.  J.  BOURRASSEE. 

THE  SUMMER  PALACE       .  .  .  .  •       329 

MAURICE  PALEOLOGUE. 


xii  CONTENTS 

BERKELEY  CASTLE  ......       337 

ARTHUR  SHADWELL  MARTIN. 

THE  CASTLE  OF  CHILLON  ....       346 

NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE. 

ROCCA  MALATESTIANA     .  .  .  .  -354 

CHARLES  YRIARTE. 

THE  WARTBURG  .....       360 

L.  PUTTICH. 

CHATEAU  D'AMBOISE        .  .  .  .  .       367 

JULES  LOISELEUR. 

BLARNEY  CASTLE  .  .  ,yr 

MR.  AND  MRS.  S.  C.  HALL. 

CHATEAU  DE  LOCHES        .  ;  .  '.  ,go 

J.  J.  BOURRASSEE. 

THE  PALACE  OF  BLENHEIM  ....       390 

NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE. 


Illustrations 


CONWAY   CASTLE Wales     .     Frontispiece 

FACING  PACE 

THE  DUCAL  PALACE     .....     Italy 8 

PALACE  OF  LINLITHGOW     ....  Scotland.     ...     21 

ARUNDEL  CASTLE England      ...     32 

PALAZZO  VECCHIO Italy 41 

KENSINGTON  PALACE England      ...     51 

THE  MIKADO'S  PALACE      ....  Japan      .     .     .     .     61 

WARWICK  CASTLE England      ...     68 

THE  ALHAMBRA Spain       ....     78 

LAMBETH  PALACE England      ...     89 

CHATEAU  DE  BLOIS France    ....     99 

FuTTEHPORE-SiKRi India       .     .     .     .105 

CAERN AVON  CASTLE     .....  Wales     .     .     .     .115 

WINTER  PALACE Russia    .     .     .     .124 

FONTAINEBLEAU France    .     .     .     .133 

THE  RICCARDI  PALACE      ....     Italy 143 

RABY  CASTLE England      .     .     .153 

CASTEL  DEL  MONTE Sicily       .     .     .     .162 

THE  GENERALIFE     .     .     .     .     .     .  Spain      .     .     .     .   169 

CHATEAU  DE  CHENONCEAUX  .     .     .  France    .     .     .     .   1 74 

DUBLIN  CASTLE Ireland  .     .     .     .179 

SANS  Souci Germany     .     .     .   183 

WHITEHALL  PALACE England      .     .     .190 

THE  CASTLE  OF  KRONBORG     .     .     .  Denmark     .     .•    .  199 

CHAUMONT  SUR  LOIRE  .     .     .     .     .  France    .     .     .     .210 

WINDSOR  CASTLE England      .     .     .217 

THE  PALACE  OF  URBINO    ....     Italy 226 

ALNWICK  CASTLE England      .     .     .  236 


XJV  ILLUSTRATIONS 

THE  PALACE  OF  SAINT-CLOUD     .     .  France    ....   245 

STIRLING  CASTLE Scotland.     .     .     .   254 

THE  PALACE  OF  THE  BOSPHORUS     .  Turkey   ....   259 

PLESSIS-LES-TOURS France   .     .     .     .267 

HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE       .     .     .  England      .     .     .275 

THE  PALACE  OF  SHAH  JEHAN      .     .  India       ....   285 

EDINBURGH  CASTLE Scotland ....  295 

LAMBTON  CASTLE England      ;     .     .  304 

ARANJUEZ Spain      ....  310 

GLAMIS  CASTLE Scotland .     .     .     .314 

CHATEAU  DE  CHINON France    .     .     .     .321 

THE  SUMMER  PALACE China     .     .     .     .329 

BERKELEY  CASTLE England      .     .     .  337 

THE  CASTLE  OF  CHILLON  ....  Switzerland      .     .  346 

ROCCA  MALATESTIANA Italy 354 

THE  WARTBURG Germany     .     .     .  360 

CHATEAU  D'AMBOISE France    .     .     .     .367 

BLARNEY  CASTLE Ireland  .     .     .     .375 

CHATEAU  DE  LOCHES France   ....  380 

THE  PALACE  OF  BLENHEIM     .     .     .  England      .     .     .  390 


Castles  and  Palaces 


CONWAY  CASTLE 

GRANT  ALLEN 

TO  call  the  town  at  the  mouth  of  the  Conway  plain 
Conway  is  as  absurd  as  if  we  were  to  call  the  town 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Tyne  plain  Tyne  instead  of  Tyne- 
mouth. 

By  whatever  name  we  call  it,  however,  Conway  town 
itself  is  equally  interesting  and  equally  beautiful.  It  still 
presents  perhaps  the  best  specimen  yet  remaining  in  Britain 
of  a  mediaeval  borough,  begirt  to  this  day  with  its  Thir- 
teenth Century  walls,  and  overlooked  by  the  towers  of  its 
strong  castle-fortress.  Even  Telford's  graceful  suspension- 
bridge,  in  admirable  harmony  of  tone  and  plan  with  the 
surrounding  buildings,  hardly  detracts  at  all  from  the  old- 
world  character  of  the  familiar  scene ;  nay,  I  am  not  sure 
that  it  does  not  even  add  somewhat  to  its  picturesqueness. 
As  much  cannot  be  said  for  the  huge  iron  boxes  of  Stephen- 
son's  tubular  bridge  which  carries  the  London  and  North- 
Western  line  across  the  river  on  its  way  to  Holyhead. 


2  CONWAY   CASTLE 

But  taken  as  a  whole,  the  mouth  of  the  Conway,  with  its 
town  and  castle,  has  hardly  an  equal  perhaps  in  Britain, 
save  the  mouth  of  the  Dart  in  the  equally  Celtic  Devonian 
uplands. 

Yet  to  the  Welshman,  the  towers  of  Conway,  beautiful 
as  they  are  from  every  point  of  view,  must  long  have 
seemed  a  badge  of  servitude.  We  forget  too  often  in  look- 
ing at  these  picturesque  relics  of  the  lawless  days  how  stern 
and  business-like  they  must  once  have  appeared,  how  sug- 
gestive of  none  but  purely  military  and  aggressive  associa- 
tions. Time  has  softened  the  murderous  effect  of  keep  and 
bastion,  and  left  us  nothing  but  the  graceful  tinge  of  poetic 
medievalism.  But  when  Edward  I.  impressed  into  his 
service  the  unpaid  labour  of  the  conquered  Welsh  to  raise 
his  great  castles  around  the  disaffected  mountain  land,  he 
did  it  with  the  distinct  and  deliberate  purpose  of  holding  in 
check  for  the  future  all  wild  aspirations  of  the  native  race 
after  Cymric  independence.  The  great  triangle  formed  by 
the  three  strong  castles  of  Harlech,  Caernavon,  and  Con- 
way  (like  the  famous  Austrian  quadrilateral  in  North  Italy) 
was  a  standing  menace  to  the  national  movement  and  an 
effectual  curb  upon  the  national  desire  to  rise  in  revolt. 
The  three  proud  strongholds  occupy  the  keys  to  the  three 
chief  routes  into  the  heart  of  Snowdonia.  Harlech  blocks 
the  way  by  the  Vale  of  Festiniog  or  the  Pass  of  Aber- 
glaslyn:  Caernavon  guards  the  bare  ravine  of  Llanberis : 
Conway  frowns  down  upon  the  Bettws  road  and  stops  the 
coast  path  by  Penmaenmawr  and  Bangor.  Dominated  and 
daunted  by  these  three  imposing  fortresses,  so  vastly  supe- 


CONWAY   CASTLE  3 

rior  in  design  and  construction  to  the  little  tower  keeps  of 
her  native  princelings,  the  mountain  heart  of  Gwynedd  lay 
still  for  centuries,  only  galvanized  for  a  moment  once  into 
spasmodic  life,  during  the  troublous  times  of  civil  commo- 
tion in  England,  by  the  adventurous  spirit  of  that  Deeside 
chief  whose  name  Englishmen  travesty  into  Owen  Glen- 
dower. 

Nowhere  is  the  genius  of  Edward's  great  architect, 
Henry  of  Elreton,  more  conspicuous  than  in  this  noble  pile 
at  Conway.  Half  castle,  half  palace — for  Edward  meant 
to  be  king  as  well  as  conqueror — it  combined  the  military 
solidity  of  Anglo-Norman  work  with  the  domestic  magnifi- 
cence of  later  Tudor  mansions.  Its  great  hall,  in  particu- 
lar, must  have  formed,  when  perfect,  one  of  the  most  regal 
and  splendid  reception  rooms  then  existing  in  any  part  of 
England.  The  remaining  lancet  windows  of  the  royal 
private  apartments,  and  the  beautiful  early-decorated  work- 
manship of  Queen  Eleanor's  oratory,  survive  to  show  with 
what  royal  state  Edward  kept  his  court  both  here  and  at 
Caernavon.  For  it  is  quite  a  mistake  to  regard  the  great- 
est of  Plantagenets  as  a  mere  savage  conqueror — the  "  ruth- 
less king  "  of  Gray's  immortal  calumny.  If  Edward  re- 
pressed sternly,  he  meant  to  reign  peacefully.  The  "  mas- 
sacre of  the  bards  "  and  all  the  other  poetical  rubbish  with 
which  Welsh  legend  has  clouded  the  history  of  the  national 
defeat,  must  be  relegated  to  the  limbo  of  exploded  fable. 
The  plain  truth  is  that,  when  once  Llewelyn  and  Dafydd 
were  dead,  Edward's  whole  policy  in  the  Welsh  question 
was  a  policy  of  conciliation.  His  object  was  to  pacify  and 


4  CONWAY   CASTLE 

Anglicize  the  disaffected  uplands,  to  make  communica- 
tions safe  through  what  had  once  been  the  stronghold  of 
Taffy,  that  typical  robber  outlaw,  and  to  reorganize  the 
broken  Celtic  community  on  the  familiar  model  of  the 
English  kingdom.  It  was  not  in  mere  play,  therefore,  that 
he  presented  to  the  Welsh  his  own  eldest  son,  born  by  de- 
liberate arrangement  an  indigenous  Welshman  in  Caernavon 
Castle,  as  the  first  Prince  of  Wales  of  a  new  and  more 
powerful  line,  or  that  he  built  and  decorated  those  great 
royal  reception  rooms  in  his  Cambrian  palaces,  where  the 
chieftains  of  Gwynedd  and  the  rude  lords  of  Anglesey 
might  for  the  first  time  see  and  be  duly  impressed  by  the 
splendour  and  the  glitter  of  Anglo-Norman  chivalry. 

Viewed  from  this  wider  standpoint,  the  beautiful  chain- 
bridge  and  the  ugly  boxes  of  Stephenson's  iron  monstrosity 
are  themselves  in  a  certain  sort  the  direct  heirs  and  truest 
modern  representatives  of  Edward's  wise  and  necessary 
policy.  So  seen,  they  cease  to  interfere  with  the  unity  of 
the  view  and  merge  into  one  with  the  great  Plantagenet 
design  of  the  palace-castle.  For  both  these  important 
works,  with  their  still  vaster  and  more  wonderful  sister- 
bridges  over  the  Menai  at  Bangor,  form  to  this  day  the 
outer  and  visible  sign  of  that  coalescence  of  the  Celtic  and 
Teutonic  elements  in  Britain  to  which  Edward  devoted  all 
his  life  and  energy.  The  first  great  roads  made  by  the  first 
great  road-makers  in  England  were  the  roads  that  connected 
London,  the  centre  of  the  empire,  with  the  Irish  packets 
at  Holyhead ;  and  both  those  roads,  whether  coastwise  or 
internal,  by  Glan  Ogwen  or  Penmacnmawr,  led  through 


CONWAY    CASTLE  5 

the  wildest  parts  of  Wild  Wales.  The  greatest  life  task 
of  the  greatest  engineer  before  the  railway  period — Telford 
— was  the  Holyhead  road :  the  greatest  life  task  of  the 
inventor  of  the  locomotive  and  his  still  abler  sons — George 
and  Robert  Stephenson — was  the  iron  line  from  London  to 
Holyhead.  In  these  gigantic  undertakings,  Celt  and  Saxon 
were  united  for  all,  and  the  better  day  of  fraternal  friend- 
ship was  inaugurated  in  full  sight  of  Edward's  threatening 
castle  towers.  Dr.  Arnold  loved  to  look  at  the  railway 
engine,  snorting  steam  across  the  midland  acres,  and  think 
that  feudalism  was  dead  forever.  It  is  pleasant  in  like 
manner  to  look  even  at  Stephenson's  hideous  tubular  bridge, 
and  think,  that  ill  as  it  contrasts  in  beauty  with  the 
Plantagenet  turrets,  it  is  nevertheless  the  symbol  of  that 
complete  fellowship  between  Saxon  and  Celt  in  this  land  of 
Britain  which  forms  the  final  goal  and  ideal  of  our  national 
unity. 

The  vale  of  Conway  does  not  stop  abruptly  at  Conway 
town ;  it  prolongs  itself  seaward  by  gentle  degrees  far  into 
the  shallow  waters  of  Beaumaris  Bay.  On  either  side  lie 
the  wide  tidal  sandbanks,  formed  of  material  which  the 
river  has  washed  down  from  the  peaks  of  Snowdon, 
Glyder,  and  the  Carnedds,  the  very  source  from  which 
they  are  derived  being  often  traceable  in  the  mineralogical 
peculiarities  of  the  individual  grains.  About  these  sands 
the  weird  and  melancholy  Celtic  fancy  has  woven  a 
variation  on  the  common  mournful  Celtic  legend  of  the 
submerged  country — the  legend  which  meets  us  again  under 
a  hundred  disguises  in  the  story  of  Sythenin  Cardigan  Bay, 


6  CONWAY   CASTLE 

the  floods  of  Sarn  Badrig,  the  lost  land  of  Lyonesse,  and 
the  sunken  city  of  Is  on  the  coasts  of  Brittany. 

Wherever  the  Cymric  Celt  remains,  there  these  stories 
survive  and  accompany  him.  Perhaps  they  may  inclose 
some  true  kernel  of  tradition  about  the  terrific  submergence 
which  undoubtedly  once  took  place  round  the  coasts  of  the 
two  Britains — the  greater  and  the  less — at  the  period  when  the 
forest-bed  of  post-glacial  date  was  swallowed  up  by  the 
devouring  Atlantic.  It  seemed  more  probable,  however, 
and  it  is  certainly  far  more  comforting  to  believe  that  the 
vast  earth-movement  took  place  so  quietly,  and  was  spread 
over  so  many  peaceful  centuries,  that  it  was  no  more 
recognized  by  the  men  who  lived  during  its  gradual 
progress  than  the  slow  and  gradual  submergence  of 
Scandinavia — an  inch  at  a  time — is  noticed  in  our  own 
day  by  the  Norwegian  peasant.  Rather  do  these  stories 
reflect  and  embody  the  gloomy  fancy  of  a  conquered 
people,  whose  traditions  of  glory  all  referred  to  a  remote  and 
unreal  past,  and  who  felt  in  their  despair  that  the  very 
elements  themselves  had  wrested  from  them  those  fertile 
lands  which  their  fathers  had  never  really  owned  or 
cultivated. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  local  legend  declares  that  the  Lavan 
sands — the  very  name  in  Welsh  means  Banks  of  Lamenta- 
tion— represent  the  relics  of  a  rich  lowland  hundred,  en- 
gulfed by  the  sea  at  one  wild  swoop  in  the  early  part  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  About  a  fathom  deep,  off  Y  Foel  Llus,  lies 
a  submarine  bank  still  known  as  Llys  Helig,  or  Helig's 
Palace.  Here,  according  to  tradition,  stood  the  lofty 


CONWAY   CASTLE  y 

castle  of  the  Cymric  lord  who  owned  for  miles  around  the 
fertile  plain ;  and  Welsh  imagination  still  sees  at  low  tide 
through  the  clear  water  of  the  bay  the  boundary  stones  of 
the  ancient  road  that  passed  from  the  British  stronghold  at 
Rhuddlan  to  the  fortress  of  Treganwy,  now  equally  over- 
whelmed beneath  the  sands  of  Beaumaris.  It  is  a  little  un- 
fortunate for  the  truth  of  the  tale  that  similar  evidences 
of  historical  verity  are  always  produced  in  favour  of  Caer 
Is  and  all  the  other  Celtic  buried  cities — and  that  no  Saxon 
eye  has  ever  clearly  beheld  them. 


THE  DUCAL  PALACE 
TH£OPHILE  GAUTIER 

THE  Ducal  Palace  as  we  see  it  to-day  dates  from 
Marino  Faliero  and  is  the  successor  of  an  older  one 
begun  in  809  under  Angelo  Participazio  and  carried  on  by 
the  different  Doges.  It  was  Marino  Faliero  who  caused  the 
two  facades  on  the  Mole  and  the  Piazzetta  to  be  built  in 
1 355  as  they  now  are.  This  construction  brought  happiness 
neither  to  him  who  ordered  nor  to  the  architect :  the 
former  was  decapitated  and  the  latter  hanged. 

Into  this  strange  edifice, — at  once  a  palace,  senate,  tri- 
bunal and  prison  under  the  government  of  the  Republic, — 
we  enter  by  a  charming  door  in  St.  Mark's  corner,  between 
the  pillars  of  St.  John  of  Acre  and  the  great,  thick  column 
supporting  the  entire  weight  of  the  immense  white  and  rose 
marble  wall  that  gives  such  an  original  aspect  to  the  ancient 
palace  of  the  Doges. 

This  door,  called  Delia  Carta,  is  in  charming  architec- 
tural taste,  adorned  with  little  columns,  trefoils  and  statues, 
without  counting  the  inevitable,  indispensable  winged  lion 
of  St.  Mark,  and  leads  into  the  great  interior  court  by  a 
vaulted  passage.  This  somewhat  singular  arrangement  of 
an  entrance  so  to  speak  placed  without  the  edifice  to 
which  it  leads  has  the  advantage  of  not  interfering  in  any 


THE  DUCAL  PALACE  g 

way  with  the  unity  of  its  facades,  which  are  not  broken  by 
any  projection  except  that  of  their  monumental  windows. 

Before  passing  under  the  arcade,  let  us  glance  over  the 
exterior  of  the  palace  to  note  a  few  of  its  interesting  details. 
Above  the  thick  and  robust  column  of  which  we  have  just 
spoken,  there  is  a  bas-relief  of  savage  aspect  representing 
the  'Judgment  of  Solomon^  with  mediaeval  costume  and  a 
certain  barbarity  of  execution  that  renders  it  hard  to  recog- 
nize the  subject.  This  bas-relief  opens  into  the  long 
twisted  little  columns  that  cordon  each  angle  of  the 
building. 

On  the  facade  of  the  Piazzetta,  up  on  the  second  gallery, 
two  columns  of  red  marble  mark  the  place  whence  the  death 
sentences  were  read, — a  custom  that  still  exists  to-day. 
All  the  capitals  are  in  exquisite  taste  and  inexhaustible 
variety.  Not  one  is  a  repetition.  They  contain  chimaerae, 
children,  angels,  fantastic  animals,  and  sometimes  Biblical 
or  historical  subjects,  mingled  with  foliage,  acanthus,  fruits 
and  flowers  that  forcibly  show  up  the  poverty  of  invention 
of  our  modern  artists  :  several  bear  half  effaced  inscriptions 
in  Gothic  characters,  which  in  order  to  be  fluently  read 
would  require  a  skilful  paleographer.  There  are  twenty- 
seven  arcades  on  the  Mole  and  eighteen  on  the  Piazzetta. 

The  Porta  della  Carta  leads  you  to  the  Giant's  Staircase, 
which  is  not  itself  gigantic,  but  takes  its  name  from  the  two 
colossi  of  Neptune  and  Mars,  a  dozen  feet  in  height,  by 
Sansovino,  standing  on  pedestals  at  the  top  of  the  flight. 
This  staircase,  leading  from  the  courtyard  to  the  second 
gallery  that  decks  the  interior  as  well  as  the  exterior  of  the 


,0  THE  DUCAL  PALACE 

palace,  was  raised  during  the  dogedom  of  Agfcstino  Bar- 
barigo  by  Antonio  Rizzio.  It  is  of  white  marble,  decorated 
by  Domenico  and  Bernardo  of  Mantua  with  arabesques  and 
trophies  in  very  slight  relief,  but  of  such  perfection  as  to 
be  the  despair  of  all  the  ornamenters,  carvers  and  engravers 
in  the  world.  It  is  no  longer  architecture,  but  goldsmith's 
work,  such  as  Benvenuto  Cellini  and  Vechte  alone  could 
produce.  Every  morsel  of  this  open  balustrade  is  a  world 
of  invention ;  the  weapons  and  casques  of  every  bas-relief, 
each  one  different,  are  of  the  rarest  fancy  and  the  purest 
style ;  even  the  slabs  of  the  steps  are  ornamented  with  ex- 
quisite niello^  and  yet  who  knows  anything  of  Domenico 
and  Bernardo  of  Mantua  ?  The  memory  of  mankind,  al- 
ready wearied  with  a  hundred  illustrious  names,  refuses  to 
retain  any  more,  and  consigns  to  oblivion  names  that  are 
deserving  of  all  glory. 

If  we  turn  around  on  reaching  the  head  of  this  staircase, 
we  see  the  inner  side  of  the  doorway  of  Bartolomeo, 
flowered  over  with  volutes  and  plated  with  little  columns 
and  statues,  with  remnants  of  blue  painting  starred  with 
gold  in  the  tympanums  of  the  arch.  Among  the  statues, 
one  in  particular  is  very  remarkable :  it  is  an  Eve  by 
Antonio  Rizzio  of  Verona,  carved  in  1471.  The  other 
side,  facing  the  Wells,  was  built  in  1607  in  the  style  of  the 
Renaissance,  with  columns  and  niches  full  of  antique 
statues  from  Greece,  representing  warriors,  orators,  and 
divinities.  A  clock  and  a  statue  of  the  Duke  Urbino, 
carved  by  Gio  Bandini  of  Florence  in  1625,  complete  this 
severe  and  classic  front. 


THE  DUCAL  PALACE  H 

Letting  your  glance  fall  towards  the  middle  of  the  court, 
you  see  what  look  like  magnificent  bronze  altars.  They 
are  the  mouths  of  the  cisterns  of  Nicolo  de'  Conti 
and  Francesco  Alberghetti.  The  first  dates  from  1556, 
the  second  from  1559.  Both  are  masterpieces.  Besides 
the  obligatory  accompaniment  of  griffins,  sirens,  and 
chimaerae,  various  aquatic  subjects  taken  from  the  Scrip- 
tures are  represented  in  them.  One  could  not  imag- 
ine such  richness  of  invention,  such  exquisite  taste,  such 
perfection  of  carving,  nor  such  finished  work  as  is  displayed 
by  the  kerbs  of  these  wells  enriched  with  the  polish  and 
verdigris  of  time.  Even  the  inside  of  the  mouth  is  plated 
with  thin  sheets  of  bronze  branched  with  a  damascene  of 
arabesques.  These  two  wells  are  said  to  contain  the  best 
water  in  Venice. 

Near  the  Giant's  Staircase  is  an  inscription  framed  with 
ornaments  and  figures  by  Alessandro  Vittoria  recalling  the 
passage  of  Henry  III.  through  Venice ;  and  farther  on  in 
the  gallery  at  the  approach  to  the  golden  staircase  are  two 
statues  by  Antonio  Aspetti, — Hercules  and  Atlas  bending 
beneath  the  starry  firmament,  the  weight  of  which  the 
mighty  hero  is  about  to  transfer  to  his  own  bull-neck. 
This  magnificent  staircase,  adorned  with  stuccos  by  Vit- 
toria and  paintings  by  Giambatista,  is  by  Sansovino,  and 
leads  to  the  library  which  now  occupies  several  rooms  of 
the  Palace  of  the  Doges.  To  attempt  to  describe  them  one 
by  one  would  be  a  work  of  patience  and  erudition  that 
would  require  a  whole  volume. 

The  old  hall  of  the  Grand  Council  is  one  of  the  largest 


,2  THE  DUCAL  PALACE 

you  could  find  anywhere.  The  Court  of  Lions  at  the  Al- 
hambra  would  easily  go  inside  it.  On  entering,  you  stand 
still,  struck  with  astonishment.  By  an  effect  that  is  some- 
what frequently  found  in  architecture,  this  hall  looks  much 
larger  than  the  building  that  contains  it.  A  sombre  and 
severe  wainscoting,  where  bookcases  have  taken  the  place 
of  the  seats  of  the  old  senators,  serves  as  a  plinth  for  im- 
mense paintings  that  extend  all  around  the  walls,  broken 
only  by  windows,  below  a  line  of  portraits  of  the  Doges 
and  a  colossal  gilded  ceiling  of  incredible  exuberance  of  or- 
namentation, with  great  compartments,  square,  octagonal 
and  oval,  with  foliage,  volutes,  and  rock-work  in  a  taste 
scarcely  appropriate  to  the  style  of  the  palace,  but  so  im- 
posing and  magnificent  that  you  are  quite  dazzled  by  it. 
Unfortunately,  the  pictures  by  Paul  Veronese,  Tintoret, 
Palma  the  Younger,  and  other  great  masters,  that  filled 
these  superb  frames  have  now  been  removed  on  account  of 
indispensable  repairs. 

That  side  of  the  hall  by  which  you  enter  is  entirely 
occupied  by  a  gigantic  Paradise  by  Tintoret,  which  con- 
tains a  world  of  figures.  It  is  a  strong  painting  and  it  is  a 
pity  that  time  has  so  greatly  darkened  it.  The  smoky 
shadows  that  cover  it  belong  to  a  Hell  rather  than  to  a 
Glory.  Behind  this  canvas,  a  fact  that  we  have  not  been 
in  a  position  to  verify,  it  is  said  that  there  is  an  ancient 
Paradise  painted  in  green  camaleu  upon  the  wall  by  Guari- 
ento  of  Padua  in  1365.  It  would  be  curious  to  be  able  to 
compare  this  green  Paradise  with  the  black  one.  It  is  only 
Venice  that  has  one  depth  of  painting  below  another. 


THE  DUCAL  PALACE  13 

This  hall  is  a  kind  of  Versailles  museum  of  Venetian 
history,  with  the  difference  that  if  the  exploits  are  not  so 
great,  the  painting  is  far  better.  It  is  impossible  to  im- 
agine a  more  wonderful  effect  than  is  produced  by  this  im- 
mense hall  entirely  covered  by  these  pompous  paintings 
that  excel  in  the  Venetian  genius.  Above  these  great  his- 
torical scenes,  is  a  row  of  portraits  of  the  Doges  by  Tin- 
toret,  Bassano,  and  other  painters ;  as  a  rule,  they  have  a 
smoky  and  bearded  appearance,  although,  contrary  to  the 
impression  we  form,  they  have  no  beards.  In  one  corner 
the  eye  is  arrested  at  an  empty  and  black  frame  that  makes 
a  hole  as  dark  as  a  tomb  in  this  chronological  gallery.  It 
is  the  space  that  should  be  occupied  by  the  portrait  of  Ma- 
rino Faliero,  as  told  by  this  inscription :  Locus  Marini 
Phaletri,  decap'itati  pro  criminibus.  All  the  effigies  of  Ma- 
rino Faliero  were  also  destroyed,  so  that  his  portrait  may 
be  said  to  be  undiscoverable.  However,  it  is  pretended 
that  there  is  one  in  the  possession  of  an  amateur  at  Verona. 
The  republic  wanted  to  destroy  the  memory  of  this 
haughty  old  man  who  brought  it  within  an  inch  of  ruin  in 
revenge  for  a  youth's  jest  that  was  sufficiently  punished  by  a 
few  months'  imprisonment.  To  finish  with  Marino  Faliero, 
let  us  note  that  he  was  not  beheaded  at  the  head  of  the 
Giant's  Staircase,  as  is  represented  in  several  prints,  since 
that  stairway  was  not  built  till  a  hundred  and  fifty  years 
later,  but  in  the  opposite  corner  at  the  other  end  of  the 
gallery,  upon  the  top  of  a  flight  of  steps  since  demolished. 

We  will  now  name  the  most  celebrated  chambers  of  the 
palace  without  pretending  to  describe  them  in  detail.  In 


j  .  THE  DUCAL  PALACE 

the  chamber  del  Scarlatti,  the  chimney-piece  is  covered  with 
marble  reliefs  of  the  finest  workmanship.  On  the  impost 
also  is  seen  a  very  curious  bas-relief  in  marble  representing 
the  Doge  Loredan  on  his  knees  before  the  Virgin  and 
Child,  accompanied  by  several  saints, — an  admirable  piece 
of  work  by  an  unknown  artist.  The  Hall  of  the  Shield  : 
here  the  arms  of  the  living  Doge  were  emblazoned.  It  is 
hung  with  geographical  charts  by  the  Abbe  Grisellini  that 
trace  the  discoveries  of  Marco  Polo,  so  long  treated  as 
fabulous,  and  of  other  illustrious  Venetian  travellers,  such 
as  Zeni  and  Cabota.  Here  also  is  kept  a  globe,  found  on 
a  Turkish  galley,  engraved  upon  wood  and  of  strange  con- 
figuration being  in  accordance  with  Oriental  ideas  and 
covered  with  Arabic  characters  cut  with  marvellous  deli- 
cacy ;  also  a  great  bird's-eye  view  of  Venice  by  Albrecht 
Durer,  who  made  a  long  stay  in  the  city  of  the  Doges. 
The  aspect  of  the  city  is  generally  the  same  as  to-day, 
since  for  three  centuries  one  stone  has  not  been  laid  upon 
another  in  the  Italian  cities. 

In  the  Hall  of  the  Philosophers,  a  very  beautiful  chim- 
ney-piece by  Pierre  Lombard  is  to  be  noticed.  The  Hall 
of  Stuccos,  so  called  because  of  its  ornamentation,  contains 
paintings  by  Salviati,  Pordenone,  and  Bassano :  the  Virgin, 
a  Descent  from  the  Cross,  and  the  Nativity  of  Jesus  Christ. 
The  banquet-hall  is  where  the  Doge  used  to  give  certain 
feasts  of  etiquette, — diplomatic  dinners,  as  we  should  say 
to-day.  Here  we  see  a  portrait  of  Henry  III.  by  Tintoret, 
very  strong  and  very  fine ;  and  facing  the  door  is  the 
Adoration  of  the  Magi,  a  warm  painting  by  Bonifazio,  that 


THE  DUCAL  PALACE  15 

great  master  of  whose  work  we  possess  scarcely  anything  in 
Paris.  The  Hall  of  the  Four  Doors  has  a  square  anteroom, 
the  ceiling  of  which,  painted  by  Tintoret,  represents  Justice 
giving  the  sword  and  scales  to  the  Doge  Priuli.  The  four 
doors  are  adorned  with  statues  of  grand  ferm  by  Guilio  del 
Moro,  Francesco  Caselli,  Girolamo  Campagna,  and  Ales- 
sandro  Vittoria;  the  paintings  that  enrich  the  room  are 
masterpieces. 

From  this  hall  let  us  pass  into  the  Anti-Collegio ;  it  is 
the  waiting-room  of  the  ambassadors,  the  architecture  being 
by  Scamozzi.  The  envoys  of  the  various  powers  who 
came  to  present  their  credentials  to  the  Most  Serene  Re- 
public could  scarcely  have  been  in  a  hurry  to  be  intro- 
duced :  the  masterpieces  crowded  with  such  lavishness  into 
this  splendid  anteroom  would  induce  anyone  to  be  patient. 
The  four  pictures  near  the  door  are  by  Tintoret,  and 
among  his  best.  These  are  the  subjects :  Mercury  and 
the  Graces  ;  Vulcan's  Forge  ;  Pallas,  accompanied  by  Joy  and 
Abundance,  chasing  Mars  ;  and  Ariadne  consoled  by  Bacchus. 
Apart  from  a  few  rather  forced  foreshorten  ings  and  a  few 
violent  attitudes  in  which  this  master  took  pleasure  on  ac- 
count of  their  difficulty,  we  can  do  nothing  but  praise  the 
virile  energy  of  touch,  the  warmth  of  colour,  the  truth  of 
the  flesh,  the  lifelike  power  and  that  forceful  and  charm- 
ing grace  that  distinguishes  mighty  talents  when  they 
have  to  render  sweet  and  gentle  subjects. 

But  the  marvel  of  this  sanctuary  of  art  is  the  Rape  of 
Europa,  by  Paul  Veronese.  What  lovely  white  shoulders  ! 
what  blonde  curling  tresses !  what  round  and  charming 


,6  THE  DUCAL  PALACE 

arms  !  what  smiles  of  eternal  youth  in  this  wonderful  can- 
vas in  which  Paul  Veronese  seems  to  have  spoken  his  final 
word !  Sky,  clouds,  trees,  flowers,  meadows,  seas,  tints, 
draperies,  all  seem  bathed  in  the  glow  of  an  unknown 
Elysium.  If  we  had  to  choose  one  single  example  of  all 
Paul  Veronese's  work,  this  is  the  one  we  should  prefer :  it 
is  the  most  beautiful  pearl  in  this  rich  casket. 

On  the  ceiling  the  great  artist  has  seated  his  dear  Venice 
on  a  golden  throne  with  that  amplitude  of  drapery  and  that 
abundant  grace  of  which  he  possesses  the  secret.  For  this 
Assumption,  in  which  Venice  takes  the  place  of  the  Virgin, 
he  always  knows  how  to  find  fresh  blues  and  new 
radiance. 

The  magnificent  chimney-piece  by  Aspetti,  a  stucco 
cornice  by  Vittoria  and  Bombarda,  blue  camaieu  by  Sebas- 
tian Rizzi  and  columns  of  verde  antique  and  Cipolin 
marble  framing  the  door  complete  this  marvellous  decora- 
tion in  which  shines  the  most  beautiful  of  all  luxuries, — that 
of  genius. 

The  reception-hall,  or  the  Collegio,  comes  next.  Here 
we  find  Tintoret  and  Paul  Veronese,  the  former  red  and 
violent,  the  other  azure  and  calm ;  the  first,  suited  to  great 
expanses  of  wall,  the  second,  for  immense  ceilings.  We 
will  not  speak  of  the  camaieu,  the  grisailles,  the  columns 
of  verde  antique,  the  little  arches  of  flowered  jasper  and 
sculptures  by  G.  Campagna  :  we  should  never  finish ;  and 
those  are  the  ordinary  sumptuous  details  in  the  Palace  of 
the  Doges. 

There    are  many   other  admirable   rooms   in  the  Ducal 


THE  DUCAL  PALACE  ij 

Palace  that  we  have  not  mentioned.  The  Hall  of  the 
Council  of  Ten,  the  Hall  of  the  Supreme  Council,  the 
Hall  of  the  State  Inquisitors,  and  many  others.  Upon 
their  walls  and  ceilings  sit  side  by  side  the  apotheosis  of 
Venice  and  the  Assumption  of  the  Virgin ;  the  Doges  on 
their  knees  before  some  Madonna  or  other ;  and  mytho- 
logical heroes  or  fabulous  gods ;  the  Lion  of  St.  Mark  and 
Jupiter's  Eagle ;  the  Emperor  Frederick  Barbarossa  and  a 
Neptune  ;  Pope  Alexander  III.  and  a  short-kilted  Allegory. 
Mix  up  stories  from  the  Bible  and  holy  Virgins  beneath  balda- 
quins, captures  of  Zara  embroidered  with  more  numer- 
ous episodes  than  one  of  Ariosto's  songs,  and  surprises  of 
Candia  with  jumbles  of  Turks  ;  carve  the  door-cases ;  cover 
the  cornices  with  mouldings  and  stucco  ;  set  up  statues  in 
every  corner;  lay  gold  upon  everything  that  is  not  covered 
by  the  brush  of  a  superior  artist ;  say  :  "  All  those  who 
have  laboured  here,  even  the  obscure,  had  twenty  times  as 
much  talent  as  our  celebrities  of  the  present  day ;  and  the 
greatest  masters  have  employed  their  lives  here ;  "  and  then 
you  will  have  a  feeble  idea  of  all  this  magnificence  that  de- 
fies description.  Painters,  whose  names  are  not  uttered 
once  a  century,  here  hold  their  place  in  most  terrible  prox- 
imities. You  would  say  that  genius  was  in  the  air  at  that 
climacteric  epoch  of  human  progress  and  that  nothing  was 
easier  than  to  produce  masterpieces.  The  sculptors  espe- 
cially, of  whom  no  one  ever  speaks,  display  an  extraordinary 
talent  and  are  not  in  the  least  inferior  to  the  greatest 
painters. 

Close  to   the  door  of  one  of  these  rooms  we  still  see, 


,g  THE  DUCAL  PALACE 

though  robbed  of  all  its  prestige  of  terror,  and  reduced  to 
the  condition  of  an  unused  letter-box,  the  ancient  Lion's 
Mouth  to  which  the  informers  came  to  cast  in  their  denun- 
ciations. Nothing  remains  now  but  a  hole  in  the  wall : 
the  jaw  has  been  removed.  A  sombre  corridor  leads  you 
to  the  Hall  of  the  State  Inquisitors,  to  the  Leads,  and  to  the 
Wells  that  have  served  as  a  text  for  an  infinity  of  senti- 
mental declamation.  Certainly  there  are  no  beautiful  pris- 
ons ;  but  the  truth  is  that  the  Leads  were  large  chambers 
covered  with  lead,  a  material  with  which  the  roofs  of  most 
of  the  edifices  of  Venice  are  covered  and  which  has  nothing 
particularly  cruel  about  it ;  and  that  the  Wells  were  not 
below  the  level  of  the  lagoon.  We  visited  two  or  three  of 
these  cells.  Covered  with  wood  on  the  inside,  they  had  a 
low  door  and  a  little  opening  facing  the  lamp  fixed  to  the 
roof  of  the  passage.  A  wooden  camp-bed  occupied  one  of 
the  corners. 

It  was  black  and  stifling,  but  without  any  melodramatic 
accessories.  Upon  the  walls  are  decipherable  several  of 
those  inscriptions  that  prison  weariness  engraves  with  a 
nail  upon  the  wall  of  the  tomb :  signatures,  dates,  short 
sentences  from  the  Bible,  philosophical  reflections  appro- 
priate to  the  spot,  a  timid  sigh  for  liberty,  sometimes  the 
cause  of  the  imprisonment,  such  as  the  inscription  in  which 
a  captive  says  that  he  has  been  incarcerated  for  sacrilege. 
At  the  entrance  to  a  corridor  they  showed  us  a  stone  seat 
on  which  those  who  were  secretly  executed  in  the  prison 
were  made  to  sit.  A  slender  cord  cast  around  the  neck 
and  twisted  like  a  garotte  strangled  them  in  the  Turkish 


THE  DUCAL  PALACE  ig 

manner.  These  clandestine  executions  were  only  for  state 
prisoners  convicted  of  political  crimes.  The  deed  being 
done,  the  corpse  was  bundled  into  a  gondola  through  a 
door  opening  on  to  the  Canal  della  Paglia  and  it  was  taken 
away  to  be  sunk  with  a  cannon-ball  or  stone  at  the  feet  in 
the  Orfanello  Canal  which  is  very  deep  and  where  fisher- 
men are  forbidden  to  cast  their  nets. 

Vulgar  assassins  are  executed  between  the  two  columns 
at  the  entrance  of  the  Piazzetta.  The  Bridge  of  Sighs, 
which  seen  from  the  Faille  Bridge,  looks  like  a  cenotaph 
suspended  over  the  water,  has  nothing  remarkable  inside  : 
it  is  a  double  corridor  divided  by  a  wall  which  serves  as  a 
covered  way  from  the  Ducal  Palace  to  the  Prison,  the 
severe  and  solid  edifice  built  by  Antonio  da  Ponte,  and 
situated  on  the  other  side  of  the  Canal  facing  the  lateral 
facade  of  the  Palace  which  is  supposed  to  have  been  built 
from  the  plans  of  Antonio  Riccio.  The  name  of  the  Bridge 
of  Sighs,  given  to  that  tomb  that  connects  two  prisons, 
probably  comes  from  the  lamentations  of  the  unfortunates 
going  from  their  cell  to  the  tribunal  and  back  again,  broken 
by  torture,  or  in  despair  after  condemnation.  In  the  even- 
ing this  Canal,  squeezed  between  the  high  walls  of  the  two 
sombre  edifices  and  illumined  by  some  rare  gleam,  has  a  very 
sinister  and  mysterious  aspect,  and  the  gondolas  that  glide 
along  there  bearing  some  handsome  pair  of  lovers  going  to 
get  a  little  fresh  air  on  the  lagoon,  look  as  if  they  have  a 
burden  for  the  Orfanello  Canal. 

We  have  also  visited  the  ancient  apartments  of  the 
Doge;  nothing  remains  of  their  primitive  magnificence 


2O  THE  DUCAL  PALACE 

except  a  highly  ornamental  ceiling  divided  into  gilded  and 
painted  hexagonal  compartments.  In  these  spaces,  shielded 
by  foliage  and  rosebushes,  was  an  invisible  hole  through 
which  the  State  Inquisitors  and  the  members  of  the  Coun- 
cil of  Ten  could  spy  upon  what  the  Doge  was  doing  at  all 
hours  of  the  day  and  of  the  night.  The  walls,  not  con- 
tent with  listening  by  an  ear,  like  the  prison  of  Denys  the 
Tyrant,  watched  with  an  ever  open  eye,  and  the  Doge  who 
had  conquered  at  Zara  or  at  Candia  heard,  like  Angelo, 
"steps  in  his  walls"  and  felt  a  mysterious  and  jealous 
watch  all  about  him. 


PALACE  OF  LINLITHGOW 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT 

LINLITHGOW,  distinguished  by  the  combined 
strength  and  beauty  of  its  situation,  must  have 
been  early  selected  as  a  royal  residence.  David,  who  bought 
the  title  of  Saint  by  his  liberality  to  the  church,  refers  sev- 
eral of  his  characters  to  his  town  of  Linlithgow,  and  in  that 
of  Holy  Rood  expressly  bestows  on  the  new  monastery  all 
the  skins  of  the  rams,  ewes,  and  lambs  belonging  to  his 
Castle  of  Linlitcu  which  shall  die  during  the  year. 

The  convenience  afforded  for  the  sport  of  falconry, 
which  was  so  great  a  favourite  during  the  feudal  ages,  was 
probably  one  cause  of  an  attachment  of  the  ancient  Scot- 
tish monarchs  to  Linlithgow,  and  its  fine  lake.  The  sport 
of  hunting  was  also  followed  with  success  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, from  which  circumstance  it  probably  arises  that 
the  ancient  arms  of  the  city  represent  a  black  greyhound- 
bitch  tied  to  a  tree.  Tradition,  however,  ascribes  other 
causes  for  this  remarkable  emblem,  but  is,  as  usual,  rather 
inconsistent  in  accounting  for  it  otherwise.  One  legend 
says  simply,  that  such  a  hound  was  found  so  tied  on  the 
small  island  on  the  east  side  of  the  loch.  Another  tradi- 
tion hints  at  a  witch  who  used  to  assume  this  shape.  A 
third  more  ungallantly  adopts  a  metaphorical  meaning,  and 


22  PALACE  OF   LINLITHGOW 

affirms  that  a  mistress  of  one  of  the  kings  was  designated 
under  this  hieroglyphic.  A  Celt,  according  to  Chalmers, 
might  plausibly  derive  the  name  of  Linlithgow  from  Lm- 
liath-cu,  the  Lake  of  the  Greyhound.  Chalmers  himself, 
seems  to  prefer  the  Gothic  derivation  of  Lin-lyth-gow,  or 
the  Lake  of  the  Great  Vale.  Non  nostrum  est. 

The  Castle  of  Linlithgow  is  only  mentioned  as  being  a 
peel  (a  pile,  that  is,  an  embattled  tower  surrounded  by  an 
outwork).  In  1300  it  was  rebuilt  or  repaired  by  Edward 
I.,  and  used  as  one  of  the  citadels  by  which  he  hoped  to 
maintain  his  usurped  dominion  in  Scotland.  It  is  described 
by  Barbour  as  "  meihle  and  stark  and  stuffed  weel."  Piers 
Luband,  a  Gascoigne  knight,  was  appointed  the  keeper,  and 
appears  to  have  remained  there  until  the  autumn  of  1313, 
when  the  Scots  recovered  the  Castle  under  the  following  in- 
teresting circumstances  : — 

There  was,  says  our  authority,  Barbour,  dwelling  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Linlithgow,  a  stout-hearted  husbandman, 
named  William  Binnock,  who,  observing  that  the  Scots 
were  on  every  hand  recovering  from  the  English  the  castles 
and  fortresses  which  the  invaders  possessed  within  Scotland, 
could  not  brook  that  the  peel  in  his  vicinity,  which  was 
large,  strong,  and  well  supplied  with  arms  and  garrisons, 
should  remain  unassailed.  He  formed  a  stratagem,  equally 
remarkable  for  ingenuity  and  audacity.  The  garrison  was 
usually  supplied  by  Binnock  with  hay,  and  they  had  lately 
required  from  him  a  fresh  supply.  He  assured  them  of  the 
excellence  of  the  forage,  and  undertook  to  send  it  in  early 
in  the  morning.  But  the  hay  was  so  arranged  on  the  wain 


PALACE  OF   LINLITHGOW 


23 


as  to  conceal  eight  well-armed  and  determined  men ;  the 
team  was  driven  by  a  sturdy  peasant,  who  bore  a  sharp  axe 
under  his  gaberdion.  Binnock  himself  walked  beside  the 
waggan,  to  superintend,  as  it  seemed,  the  safe  delivery  of 
the  forage.  The  porter,  on  approach  of  Binnock,  with  his 
well-known  wain,  lowered  the  drawbridge  and  raised  the 
portcullis.  Just  at  the  very  gateway,  the  driver,  as  he  had 
been  instructed,  drew  his  axe  suddenly  and  cut  asunder  the 
soam,  or  tackle,  by  which  the  oxen  were  attached  to  the 
waggon.  Binnock  at  the  same  instant  struck  the  warder 
dead,  and  shouted  the  signal  word,  which  was  "  Call  all, 
call  all."  The  assailants  jumped  from  amongst  the  hay, 
and  attacked  the  astonished  garrison.  The  wain  was  so 
placed  that  neither  could  the  gate  be  shut  nor  the  portcullis 
lowered,  nor  the  bridge  raised,  and  a  party  of  Scots,  who 
were  in  ambush  for  the  purpose,  rushed  in  to  second  their 
forlorn  hope,  and  were  soon  masters  of  the  place. 

Bruce,  faithful  to  his  usual  policy,  caused  the  peel  of 
Linlithgow  to  be  dismantled,  and  worthily  rewarded 
William  Binnock,  who  had  behaved  with  such  gallantry 
on  the  occasion.  From  this  bold  yeoman  the  Binnies 
of  West  Lothian  are  proud  to  trace  their  descent ;  and 
most,  if  not  all  of  them,  bear  in  their  arms  something  con- 
nected with  the  waggon,  which  was  the  instrument  of  his 
stratagem. 

When  times  of  comparative  peace  returned,  Linlithgow 
again  became  the  occasional  residence  of  the  sovereign.  In 
1411  the  town  was  burned  by  accident,  and  in  1414  was 
again  subjected  to  the  same  calamity,  together  with  the 


24  PALACE  OF   LINLITHGOW 

Church  and  Palace  of  the  King,  as  is  expressly  mentioned 
by  Bower. 

The  present  Church,  which  is  a  fine  specimen  of  Gothic 
architecture,  having  a  steeple  surmounted  by  an  imperial 
crown,  was  probably  erected  soon  after  that  calamity. 

The  Palace  arose  from  its  ashes  with  greater  splendour 
than  before;  for  the  family  of  Stuart,  unhappy  in  so  many 
respects,  were  all  of  them  fortunate  in  their  taste  for  the 
fine  arts,  and  particularly  for  that  of  architecture.  The 
Lordship  of  Linlithgow  was  settled  as  a  dowry  upon  Mary 
of  Gueldres  in  1449,  and  again  upon  Margaret  of  Denmark 
in  1468. 

James  the  Fourth,  as  splendid  a  gallant,  seems  to  have 
founded  the  most  magnificent  part  of  Linlithgow  Palace ; 
together  with  the  noble  entrance  betwixt  two  flanking 
towers  bearing  on  rich  entablatures  the  royal  arms  of  Scot- 
land, with  the  collar  of  the  Order  of  the  Thistle,  Garter, 
and  Saint  Michael. 

James  IV.,  also  erected  in  the  Church  a  throne  for  him- 
self, and  twelve  stalls  for  Knights  Companions  of  the 
Thistle.  It  was  sitting  here,  in  the  time  of  public  worship, 
and  musing,  perhaps,  on  his  approaching  invasion  of  Eng- 
land, that  he  received  a  singular  advice  from  a  singular  per- 
sonage, which  we  cannot  express  better  than  in  the  words 
of  Pitscottie : — 

u  At  this  time  the  King  visited  Linlithgow,  where  he 
was  at  the  Council,  very  sad  and  dolorous,  making  his 
prayers  to  God  to  send  him  a  good  success  in  his  voyage. 
And  there  came  a  man  clad  in  a  blue  gown,  belted  about 


PALACE   OF   LINLITHGOW  25 

him  with  a  roll  of  lining,  and  a  pair  of  brottikines  on  his 
feet,  and  all  other  things  conform  thereto.  But  he  had 
nothing  on  his  head  but  side  hair  to  his  shoulders,  and  bald 
before.  He  seemed  to  be  a  man  of  fifty  years,  and  came 
fast  forwards,  crying  among  the  lords,  and  specially  for  the 
King,  saying,  that  he  desired  to  speak  with  him  ;  while  at 
the  la,st  he  came  to  the  desk  where  the  King  was  at 
prayers.  But  when  he  saw  the  King,  he  gave  him  no  due 
reverence  nor  salutation,  but  leaned  him  down  gruffly  upon 
the  desk,  and  said,  4  Sir  King,  my  mother  has  sent  me  to 
thee,  desiring  thee  not  to  go  where  thou  art  purposed, 
which  if  thou  do,  thou  shalt  not  fare  well  in  thy  journey, 
nor  none  that  is  with  thee.  Farther,  she  forbade  thee,  not 
to  mell  nor  use  the  counsel  of  women,  which  if  thou  do, 
thou  wilt  be  confounded  and  brought  to  shame.'  By  [the 
time]  this  man  had  spoken  these  words  to  the  King,  the 
even-song  was  near  done,  and  the  King  paused  on  these 
words,  studying  to  him  an  answer.  But  in  the  meantime, 
before  the  King's  eyes,  and  in  presence  of  the  whole  lords 
that  were  about  him  for  the  time,  this  man  evanished  away, 
and  could  no  more  be  seen.  I  heard  Sir  David  Lindsay, 
Lyon-herald,  and  John  Inglis,  the  Marishall,  who  were  at 
that  time  young  men  and  special  servants  to  the  King's 
grace,  thought  to  have  taken  this  man,  but  they  could  not, 
that  they  might  have  speired  [«j^^J  further  tidings  at  him, 
but  they  could  not  touch  him." 

Buchanan  confirms  this  strange  story  on  the  word  of  a 
spectator,  Sir  David  Lindsay,  whose  testimony  he  describes 
as  unimpeachable.  Thus  supported^  we  have  only  to 


26  PALACE   OF   LINLITHGOW 

choose  betwixt  a  deception  and  a  supernatural  appearance. 
The  temper  of  James  was  one  of  those  described  by  the 
poet  as  being  "  of  imagination  all  compact."  He  was 
amorous,  devotional,  and  chivalrous.  This  renders  it 
highly  probable  that  the  simulated  vision  was  contrived  by 
some  of  the  numerous  party  who  advised  a  continuance  of  . 
peace  with  England,  and  who  might  be  of  opinion  that 
counsels  conveyed  in  this  mysterious  manner  might  have 
some  effect  on  the  romantic  spirit  of  the  King.  It  is 
usually  supposed  that  the  vision  was  intended  to  represent 
Saint  Andrew;  but  the  use  of  the  words,  "my  mother," 
seem  rather  to  imply  the  Apostle  John,  who  indicated  by 
that  term  the  Virgin  Mary. 

The  death  of  James  IV.  and  rout  of  his  army  clouded 
for  many  a  day  the  glory  of  Scotland,  and  marred  the 
mirth  of  her  palaces. 

James  V.  was  much  attached  to  Linlithgow,  and  added  to 
the  Palace  both  the  Chapel  and  Parliament  Hall,  the  last  of 
which  is  peculiarly  striking.  So  that  when  he  brought  his 
bride  Mary  of  Guise  there,  amid  the  festivities  which  ac- 
companied their  wedding,  she  might  have  more  reasons 
than  mere  complaisance  for  highly  commending  the 
edifice,  and  saying  that  she  never  saw  a  more  princely 
palace.  It  was  long  her  residence,  and  that  of  her  royal 
husband,  at  Linlithgow.  Mary  was  born  there  in  an  apart- 
ment still  shown  ;  and  the  ill-fated  father  dying  within  a 
few  days  of  that  event,  left  the  ominous  diadem  which  he 
wore  to  the  still  more  unfortunate  infant. 

It  is  remarkable  that  during  this  reign  there  was  acted  at 


PALACE   OF   LINLITHGOW  27 

Linlithgow,  in  presence  of  the  King,  Queen,  and  whole 
court,  and,  so  far  as  appears,  with  great  applause,  a  play,  or 
theatrical  presentation,  by  Sir  David  Lindsay,  called  the 
Satire  of  the  Three  Estates,  in  which  much  coarse  and  in- 
delicate farce  and  buffoonery  is  intermixed  with  the  most 
pointed  censure  upon  the  affairs  both  of  church  and  state. 
The  comic  mummery  was  undoubtedly  thrown  in  with  the 
purpose  of  Rabelais,  to  mitigate  the  edge  of  the  satire,  by 
representing  the  whole  as  matter  of  idle  and  extravagant 
mirth.  But  when  the  serious  and  direct  tenor  of  the  piece 
is  considered,  no  one  can  doubt  that  the  Prince  before 
whom  it  was  acted,  and  by  whom  it  seems  to  have  been 
well  received,  meditated  reforms  both  in  church  and  state, 
however  diverted  from  them  by  the  arts  of  the  church- 
men. 

In  the  subsequent  reign  of  Queen  Mary,  Linlithgow 
was  the  scene  of  several  remarkable  events;  the  most 
interesting  of  which  was  the  assassination  of  the  Regent 
Murray  by  Hamilton  of  Bothwellhaugh.  This  James  VI. 
loved  the  royal  residence  of  Linlithgow,  and  completed  the 
original  plan  of  the  Palace,  closing  the  great  square  by  a 
stately  range  of  apartments  of  great  architectural  beauty. 
He  also  made  a  magnificent  fountain  in  the  Palace-yard, 
now  ruinous,  as  are  all  the  buildings  around.  Another 
grotesque  Gothic  fountain  adorns  the  street  of  the  town, 
which,  with  the  number  of  fine  springs,  leads  to  the  popular 
rhyme  : 

Linlithgow  for  wells, 
Stirling  for  bells. 


28  PALACE  OF  LINLITHGOW 

Among  the  attendants  of  James  the  Sixth  was  a  distin- 
guished personage  of  a  class  which  may  be  found  in  most 
places  of  public  resort.  This  was  the  celebrated  Rob 
Gibb,  the  king's  fool  or  jester.  Fool  as  he  was,  Rob  Gibb 
seems  to  have  understood  his  own  interest.  Upon  one  oc- 
casion it  pleased  his  sapient  Majesty  King  Jamie  to  instal 
Rob  in  his  own  royal  chair,  the  sport  being  to  see  how  he 
would  demean  himself  as  sovereign.  The  courtiers  entered 
into  the  king's  humour,  overwhelming  Rob  Gibb  with  pe- 
titions for  places,  pensions,  and  benefices,  not  sorry  per- 
haps to  have  an  opportunity  of  hinting,  in  the  presence  of 
the  real  sovereign,  secret  hopes  and  wishes,  which  they 
might  have  no  other  opportunity  of  expressing.  But  Rob 
Gibb  sternly  repelled  the  whole  supplicants  together,  as  a 
set  of  unmercifully  greedy  sycophants,  who  followed  their 
worthy  king  only  to  see  what  they  could  make  of  him. 
"  Get  ye  hence,  ye  covetous  selfish  loons,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  and  bring  to  me  my  own  dear  and  trusty  servant,  Rob 
Gibb,  that  I  may  honour  the  only  one  of  my  court  who 
serves  me  for  stark  love  and  kindness."  It  would  not  have 
been  unlike  King  Jamie  to  have  answered,  "  that  he  was 
but  a  fool,  and  knew  no  better." 

Rob's  presence  of  mind  did  not  go  unrewarded ;  for 
either  on  this  or  some  future  occasion,  he  was  in  such 
"  good  foolery  "  as  to  get  a  grant  of  a  small  estate  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  burgh. 

When  the  sceptre  passed  from  Scotland,  oblivion  sat 
down  in  the  halls  of  Linlithgow ;  but  her  absolute  desola- 
tion was  reserved  for  the  memorable  era  of  1745-6. 


PALACE  OF   LINLITHGOW  29 

About  the  middle  of  January  in  that  year,  General  Haw- 
ley  marched  at  the  head  of  a  strong  army  to  raise  the  siege 
of  Stirling,  then  pressed  by  the  Highland  insurgents  under 
the  adventurous  Charles  Edward.  The  English  general 
had  expressed  considerable  contempt  of  his  enemy,  who, 
he  affirmed,  would  not  stand  a  charge  of  cavalry.  On  the 
night  of  the  ijth  he  returned  to  Linlithgow,  with  all  the 
marks  of  defeat,  having  burned  his  tents,  and  left  his  artil- 
lery and  baggage.  His  disordered  troops  were  quartered  in 
the  Palace,  and  began  to  make  such  great  fires  on  the 
hearth  as  to  endanger  the  safety  of  the  edifice.  A  lady  of 
the  Livingston  family  who  had  apartments  there,  remon- 
strated with  General  Hawley,  who  treated  her  fears  with 
contempt.  "  I  can  run  away  from  fire  as  fast  as  you  can, 
General,"  answered  the  high-spirited  dame,  and  with  this 
sarcasm  took  horse  for  Edinburgh.  Very  soon  after  her 
departure  her  apprehensions  were  realized  ;  the  Palace  of 
Linlithgow  caught  fire,  and  was  burned  to  the  ground. 
The  ruins  alone  remain  to  show  its  former  splendour. 

The  situation  of  Linlithgow  Palace  is  eminently  beauti- 
ful. It  stands  on  a  promontory  of  some  elevation,  which 
advances  almost  into  the  midst  of  the  lake.  The  form  is 
that  of  a  square  court,  composed  of  buildings  of  four  stories 
high,  with  towers  at  the  angles.  The  fronts  within  the 
square,  and  the  windows,  are  highly  ornamented,  and  the 
size  of  the  rooms,  as  well  as  the  width  and  character  of 
the  staircases,  are  upon  a  magnificent  scale.  One  banquet- 
room  is  ninety-four  feet  long,  thirty  feet  wide,  and  thirty- 
three  feet  high,  with  a  gallery  for  music.  The  King's 


oO  PALACE   OF   LINLITHGOW 

wardrobe,  or  dressing-room,  looking  to  the  west,  projects 
over  the  walls  so  as  to  have  a  delicious  prospect  on  three 
sides,  and  is  one  of  the  most  enviable  boudoirs  we  have 
ever  seen. 

There  were  two  main  entrances  to  Linlithgow  Palace. 
That  from  the  south  ascends  rather  steeply  from  the  town,  . 
and  passes  through  a  striking  Gothic  archway,  flanked  by 
two  round  towers.  The  portal  has  been  richly  adorned  by 
sculpture,  in  which  can  be  traced  the  arms  of  Scotland 
with  the  collars  of  the  Thistle,  the  Garter,  and  Saint 
Michael.  This  was  the  work  of  James  V.,  and  is  in  a 
most  beautiful  character. 

The  other  entrance  is  from  the  eastward.  The  gateway 
is  at  some  height  from  the  foundation  of  the  wall,  and  there 
are  opposite  to  it  the  remains  of  a  perron,  or  ramp  of  ma- 
son-work, which  those  who  desired  to  enter  must  have 
ascended  by  steps.  A  drawbridge,  which  could  be  raised 
at  pleasure,  united,  when  it  was  lowered,  the  ramp  with 
the  threshold  of  the  gateway,  and  when  raised,  left  a  gap 
between  them,  which  answered  the  purpose  of  a  moat. 
On  the  inside  of  the  eastern  gateway  is  a  figure,  much  mu- 
tilated, said  to  have  been  that  of  Pope  Julius  II.,  the  same 
Pontiff  who  sent  to  James  IV.  the  beautiful  sword  which 
makes  part  of  the  Regalia. 

"  To  what  base  offices  we  may  return  !  "  In  the  course 
of  the  last  war,  those  beautiful  remains,  so  full  of  ancient  re- 
membrances, very  narrowly  escaped  being  defaced  and  dis- 
honoured, by  an  attempt  to  convert  them  into  barracks  for 
French  prisoners  of  war.  The  late  President  Blair,  as 


PALACE   OF   LINLITHGOW  31 

zealous  a  patriot  as  he  was  an  excellent  lawyer,  had  the 
merit  of  averting  this  insult  upon  one  of  the  most  striking 
objects  of  antiquity  which  Scotland  yet  affords.  I  am 
happy  to  add,  that  of  late  years  the  Court  of  the  Exchequer 
have,  in  this  and  similar  cases,  shown  much  zeal  to  pre- 
serve our  .national  antiquities,  and  stop  the  dilapidations 
which  were  fast  consuming  them. 

In  coming  to  Linlithgow  by  the  Edinburgh  road,  the 
first  view  of  the  town,  with  its  beautiful  steeple,  sur- 
mounted with  a  royal  crown,  and  the  ruinous  towers  of  the 
Palace  arising  out  of  a  canopy  of  trees,  forms  a  most  im- 
pressive object.  All  that  is  wanting  is  something  of  more 
elevated  dignity  to  the  margin  of  the  lake.  But  it  is  not 
easy  to  satisfy  the  inconsistent  wishes  of  amateurs. 

We  may  in  taking  leave  of  this  subject,  use  once  more 
the  words  of  old  Sir  David  of  the  Mount,  in  his  Complaint 
of  the  Papingo  : — 

Farewell  Linlithgow,  whose  Palace  of  pleasaunce 
Might  be  a  pattern  in  Portugal  or  France. 


ARUNDEL  CASTLE 
ALICE  MEYNELL 

EVEN  pastoral  England,  which  has  a  character  of  its 
own  so  different  from  that  of  pastoral  districts  else- 
where— so  much  richer  in  its  details  is  it,  and  so  much 
blunter  and  rounder  in  its  forms,  than  the  pasture-lands  and 
cornlands  of  Italy,  or  France,  or  Spain,  or  Greece — even 
this  distinctive  and  separated  country  has  variations  within 
itself.  The  heart  of  England — the  country  of  George 
Eliot  and  the  tract  which  lies  within  near  or  distant  sight 
of  the  Malvern  Hills — has  a  drier,  crisper  beauty  about  its 
green  fields  and  rich  woods.  The  great  peaceful  plain  is 
broken  by  undulations,  which  are  lost  from  a  distant  view, 
and  nowhere,  not  even  by  the  brimming  waters  of  the 
Severn,  are  there  such  perfectly  flat  fields,  pasture,  marsh, 
and  cornfield  lying  together,  even  and  low,  as  those  into 
which  the  gently  raised  tablelands  of  England  subside  be- 
tween the  downs  of  the  South  Coast.  Such  lands  lie  about 
the  feet  of  the  Arundel  hills,  open  to  a  boundless  sky,  in- 
vested in  light  night  mists,  full  of  cattle,  watered  by  a  little 
river  and  its  streams  which  scarcely  creep  towards  the  sea 
where  it  lies  level  with  the  land,  or  in  some  places  level 
with  the  hedgerows. 

The   aspect  of  things  here   is  Tennysonian.     Looking 


ARUNDEL  CASTLE  33 

along  the  fields  towards  Arundel  where  it  curves  into  the 
arm  of  its  hill,  and  from  a  distance  sufficient  to  lend  en- 
chantment to  the  mean  details  which  mar  any  English 
town  upon  a  close  sight,  the  place  looks  like  the  "  dim  rich 
city "  in  Elaine.  There  might  be  a  warder  looking  out 
from  the  castle  keep,  a  knight  might  be  riding  up  to  the 
walls  in  the  twilight.  Not  many  years  ago  owls  did  hoot 
about  that  tower,  but  they  died  and  were  stuffed.  The 
peacefulness  of  the  flat  lowlands  too,  the  richness  of  the 
level  pastures,  in  which  the  dark  brown  cattle  stand  knee- 
deep,  the  softening  haze  of  lowland  mist,  and  the  general 
prosperity  of  things,  all  have  something  of  the  flavour  of 
the  same  poetry.  It  is  otherwise  when  the  hills  are 
climbed,  and  the  free  breezy  uplands  of  the  park,  with 
the  moory,  dry,  gay  country  towards  Petworth,  opens  out. 
There  we  have  a  beauty  which  suggests  a  less  mild  and 
meditative  muse. 

Arundel  dates  back  to  the  most  respectable  antiquity,  for 
King  Alfred  bequeathed  the  Castle  in  his  will,  with  the 
neighbouring  lordships  to  his  nephew  Athelm.  It  after- 
wards passed  into  the  hands  of  the  great  Earl  Godwin  and 
to  his  son,  King  Harold.  And  when  William  the  Con- 
queror was  minded  to  reward  his  Normans  for  their  serv- 
ices in  his  wars,  the  Earldoms  of  Shrewsbury  and  of 
Arundel  fell  to  the  share  of  one  Roger  de  Montgomery, 
who  rebuilt  and  enlarged  the  fortalice  of  Arundel.  The 
fair  stronghold  then  went  on  changing  hands,  passing  now 
to  the  kings  of  England,  and  now  forming  the  marriage 
dower  of  a  princess.  Among  its  towers  the  Empress  Maud 


34 


ARUNDEL  CASTLE 


found  refuge  from  her  enemy  Stephen,  and  was  besieged  ; 
but  as  she  was  the  guest  of  Adeliza,  widow  of  Henry  I., 
he  courteously  permitted  her  at  last  to  depart  in  peace,  for 
the  love  of  hospitality.  The  place  was  now  the  perma- 
nent property  of  Adeliza's  second  husband  and  of  his  heirs, 
and  so,  roughly  speaking,  it  has  remained,  the  fifth  in  suc- 
cession from  him  being  the  first  who  bore  the  name  of 
Fitzalan.  The  only  interruptions  of  their  tenure  were 
temporary  ones,  and  consisted  of  two  short  forfeitures  to 
the  Crown,  besides  a  seizure  by  the  capacious  and  rapacious 
hands  of  good  Queen  Bess,  who  kept  it  until  her  death, 
when  her  successor  restored  it  to  its  rightful  lord. 

One  Earl  of  Arundel  lost  his  head  for  high  treason 
against  Richard  II.  During  the  Civil  Wars  the  Castle 
was  besieged  and  besieged,  being  first  seized  by  the  Par- 
liamentarians in  the  absence  of  the  owner,  then  captured 
by  the  Royalists  after  three  days'  fighting,  and  subse- 
quently retaken  by  the  Parliamentarians  under  Waller, 
who  laid  siege  on  the  iQth  of  December,  1643,  an^  entered 
the  Castle  on  the  6th  of  January,  1644.  Upon  this  an  order 
in  Council  commanded  that  the  walls  of  the  town  of  Arundel 
and  those  of  Chichester  should  be  destroyed.  Since  more 
peaceful  times  have  reigned,  within  England  at  least,  res- 
toration has  been  at  work  somewhat  busily,  and  several 
Royal  visits  have  wakened  "  our  loyal  passion  for  our  tem- 
perate Kings,"  in  the  steep  high-street  and  in  the  public- 
houses  of  the  borough.  A  borough,  alas  !  it  is  no  longer. 
Having  enjoyed,  in  the  good  old  times,  the  luxury  of  a 
couple  of  members,  it  was  reduced  to  a  pittance  of  one  by 


ARUNDEL   CASTLE 


35 


the   first   Reform    Bill,   and   entirely   disfranchised   by  the 
second. 

The  station  lies  in  the  valley  at  some  little  distance  from 
the  town ;  as  you  follow  the  road  from  the  rail  you  have 
Arundel  and  the  Castle  before  you,  the  principal  object  of 
the  view  being  the  great  church  of  St.  Philip  Neri,  built  by 
the  present  Duke  of  Norfolk  some  years  ago  at  a  cost  of 
;£i  00,000.  It  is  still  new,  inevitably  new.  That  is  a 
fault  which  time  will  cure;  but  in  the  meanwhile  no  little 
disharmony  is  created  between  the  ancient  ruddy  colours  of 
the  old  walls,  of  the  Castle  with  its  town  and  the  somewhat 
harsh  whiteness  of  the  church.  Its  form,  too,  being  up- 
right, is  not  felicitous  in  its  composition  with  the  lower  and 
longer  lines  of  antique  English  masonry.  It  may  not 
have  been  the  Duke's  express  purpose,  when  he  built  the 
"  house  of  God,"  to  dwarf  his  own  hereditary  home  and 
fortress,  as  we  once  heard  a  passenger  in  a  railway-train 
passing  the  place  declare;  but  if  that  symbolic  and  ascetic 
intention  was  ever  entertained,  it  has  been  effectually  ful- 
filled. The  best  consolation  which  we  can  offer  to  the 
lovers  of  the  past  for  the  intrusion  of  the  modern  Gothic 
church,  is  that  the  ruins  which  they  admire  were  brand- 
new  in  the  old  times  which  they  cherish — strong,  sharp, 
neat,  and  finished,  with  no  ivy  anywhere,  and  no  pleasing 
uncertainties  of  outline.  As  you  draw  near  to  the  town 
you  see  the  rich  woods  which  clothe  the  hillside  trending 
off  to  the  right  towards  the  Black  Rabbit,  where  the  wind- 
ing lines  of  the  lazy  Arun  pass  inland.  To  the  left  stretch 
the  fields  towards  a  little  place  called  Ford,  and  in  front 


36  ARUNDEL   CASTLE 

climbs  the  High-street.  At  the  top  of  the  High-street  is 
the  Castle,  and  then  the  road  turns  to  the  left  towards  this 
great  dominating  church  of  St.  Philip. 

The  donjon  is  manifestly  the  most  ancient  part  of  the 
Castle.  It  dates  from  Saxon  times,  and  is  traditionally  be- 
lieved to  have  been  part  of  the  stronghold  as  it  was  in  the 
days  of  Alfred  the  Great.  It  stands  on  an  artificial 
eminence,  and  from  its  ramparts  the  view  is  wide  and  fair ; 
westwards  over  the  rich  country,  over  the  delicate  distant 
spire  of  Chichester,  to  the  farther  downs  of  the  Isle  of 
Wight;  southwards  to  the  mouth  of  the  little  river  Arun, 
and  the  port  of  Littlehampton  lying  with  sea-side  pastures 
around  it,  level  with  the  sea;  eastwards  to  the  South 
Downs ;  and  northwards  over  the  home  garden  and  the 
thick  woods  of  the  lower  park  to  Burpham,  where  British 
antiquities  of  no  small  importance  were  at  once  discovered, 
amongst  them  a  canoe  with  its  anchor — the  relic  of  a 
probably  half-civilized  and  Christian  people,  compared  to 
whom  the  invading  English  were  savages  of  furious  wild- 
ness.  At  the  top  of  the  keep  bide  those  stuffed  owls  which 
some  years  ago  flew  about  its  battlements.  The  rest  of  the 
Castle  is  merely  an  antique  fortress  dwelling-place,  much 
restored  in  a  jumble  of  styles,  but  with  a  general  pictur- 
esqueness  of  effect.  The  alterations  which  it  is  now  un- 
dergoing will  doubtless  much  modify  its  details,  if  not  its 
mass. 

A  little  higher,  and  at  some  distance  from  the  fortalice  of 
Arundel,  is  the  parish  church,  a  venerable  fane,  some  parts 
of  it  dating  five  hundred  years  back.  Old  and  new  are 


ARUNDEL  CASTLE 


37 


confused  together  in  the  place,  a  Fourteenth  Century 
font,  some  frescoes  of  approximately  the  same  date,  and 
other  precious  antiquities  being  side  by  side  with  brilliant 
windows  of  modern  glass  and  in  modern  taste,  and  a  num- 
ber of  energetic  "  restorations."  From  the  tower  the 
Parliamentarians  poured  shot  and  bullet  into  the  Royalist- 
guarded  ramparts  of  the  Castle.  The  "  Fitzalan  Chapel," 
properly  the  chancel  of  this  church,  has  been  the  subject  of 
a  sufficiently  celebrated  law-suit.  Built  in  the  Fourteenth 
Century  by  an  Earl  of  Arundel,  it  was  turned  to  secular 
uses — to  uses  indeed  of  the  most  secular  kind — at  the  time 
of  the  Reformation  and  thereafter,  and  is  now,  of  course,  a 
monument  and  no  more.  As,  however,  it  contains  the 
bones  of  their  fathers,  the  Dukes  of  Norfolk  have  natur- 
ally maintained  their  proprietorship  and  their  interest  in  the 
sometime  sanctuary,  and  it  was  recently  shut  off  from  the 
body  of  the  church  by  the  bricking  up  of  the  connecting 
doorway.  The  Vicar  thereupon  committed  the  legal  and 
formal  trespass  of  removing  a  brick,  in  order  that  the  pro- 
prietorship of  the  Fitzalan  Chapel  might  come  under  the 
decision  of  the  courts.  That  decision  confirmed  the 
Duke  and  his  rights,  therefore  the  division  remains;  but  the 
church  is  complete  and  ample  enough  for  all  purposes  as 
it  now  stands.  The  monuments  in  the  Fitzalan  Chapel 
are  of  great  interest  and  beauty.  The  earliest  of  them  are 
of  the  same  period  as  the  foundation  ;  the  most  beautiful  is 
the  chantry  of  William  Fitzalan,  with  its  fine  and  elaborate 
tracery  ;  and  perhaps  the  most  interesting  is  the  tomb  of 
John  Fitzalan,  which  was  for  centuries  believed  to  be  a 


38  ARUNDEL  CASTLE 

cenotaph.  The  hero  to  whose  memory  it  was  erected  lost 
a  leg  at  the  battle  of  Gerberoy  and  died  in  France  thirteen 
months  later,  in  1435.  He  was  buried  in  the  Church  of  the 
Grey  Friars,  at  Beauvais,  Normandy.  Not  very  long  ago 
a  discovery  was  made,  in  the  Prerogative  Court  at  Canter- 
bury, of  the  will  of  one  Fooke  Eiton,  Esquire,  which  had 
been  proved  in  1454,  and  which  stated  that  the  testator  had 
ransomed  the  body  of  the  Earl  "  oute  of  the  frenchemennys 
handes."  In  1857  searcri  was  made  under  the  supposed 
cenotaph,  and  the  bones  of  a  human  body  which  had  lost 
one  leg  were  discovered.  How  or  when  the  pious  and 
faithful  "  Fooke  Eiton,  Esquire,"  had  effected  the  reburial 
by  means  of  which  the  brave  Fitzalan  slept  with  his 
fathers,  there  is  no  record  to  tell. 

Quite  near  the  grey  and  mouldering  parish  church,  with 
its  cemetery  and  its  yews,  rises  the  great  modern  Roman 
Catholic  church  of  which  we  have  already  spoken.  Close 
by  is  the  park,  to  which  we  hasten,  as  the  glory  of  the 
country  side.  A  narrow  embowered  road,  entered  by  a 
little  gate,  leads  to  the  fair  space  of  sward  and  tree,  with 
its  deep  valleys  and  sudden  hills,  one  of  the  grandest  parks 
in  England  ;  lacking,  of  course,  the  charm  and  pathos,  the 
nobility  and  humility,  which  the  most  beautiful  nature  may 
gain  from  the  signs  of  labour,  agriculture,  and  the  poor ; 
and  yet  not  oppressive  with  too  heavy  verdure  or  any 
blank,  damp,  over-green  spaces  of  melancholy  grass  and 
sponge-like  trees.  The  soil  of  Arundel  Park  is  composed 
chiefly  of  that  great  flower-bearer  chalk.  It  is  so  thin  that 
it  does  not  nourish  gigantically  heavy  trees,  but  lighter  and 


ARUNDEL   CASTLE  30, 

gayer  beeches.  The  ground  is  high  and  abruptly  broken, 
and  the  whole  aspect  of  things  needs  only  some  sign  of  the 
peasant's  life  to  be  eminently  paintable.  Hill  beyond  hill 
rises  in  distance  behind  distance.  Under  a  fine  sky  the 
scene  is  so  grand  that,  though  fresh  from  contemplating 
that  panorama  of  the  junction  of  the  great  Rhine  and  the 
little  .Moselle  among  the  hills  at  Coblentz — the  landscape 
which  the  late  Lord  Lytton  pronounced  the  most  beautiful 
in  Europe — we  were  constrained  to  think  Arundel  Park 
lovelier  as  we  drove  to  Petworth  over  its  open  hills.  The 
orthodox  deer  are  here,  in  pretty  and  vivacious  herds 
which  number  considerably  over  a  thousand.  A  charming 
little  solitary  lake,  haunt  of  that  shrill  bird,  the  dab-chick, 
lies  in  a  hollow  to  the  right ;  thence  rises  a  thick  beech 
wood,  and  the  path  that  curves  round  the  base  of  the  beech- 
hill  leads  to  one  of  the  local  lions,  the  dairy.  The  "  tiled 
temple  of  cleanliness  "  is  fascinating  enough  to  the  lover  of 
cream  and  curds,  but  it  is  hard  to  forgive  the  demolition  of 
a  very  ancient  mill  which  stood  on  the  same  site.  The  air 
about  the  dairy  is  heavy  with  the  luxurious  scent  of  the 
magnolias  which  grow  upon  its  walls. 

The  road  is  leading  us  round  again  out  of  the  park  to- 
wards the  town ;  and  here  is  a  relic  of  the  past  in  the 
shape  of  a  ruined  Dominican  priory,  which  was  built  in 
1396,  and  which  gave  a  home  to  twenty  poor  men  living 
under  the  protection  of  a  friar,  until  an  end  was  put  to  the 
charity  at  the  dissolution  of  monasteries ;  and  at  the  time 
of  Waller's  siege  of  the  Castle,  the  priory  was  already  in 
ruins.  If  instead  of  winding  back  into  the  lower  town 


^O  ARUNDEL   CASTLE 

of  Arundel,  whence  we  started,  we  take  the  road  away  to 
the  left,  we  shall  reach  the  "  Black  Rabbit,"  already  men- 
tioned, where  the  dark,  rich  woods  crowd  the  hillside, 
the  little  Arun  sauntering  at  its  feet.  The  Castle  looks 
well  from  this  side,  where  trees  and  not  houses  surround  it. 


PALAZZO  VECCHIO 

ALEXANDRE  DUMAS 

GRAND  as  was  the  idea  I  had  formed  in  advance  of 
the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  I  must  confess  that  the 
realization  was  still  grander.  When  I  saw  that  mass  of 
stone  so  strongly  rooted  in  the  ground,  surmounted  by  its 
tower  that  threatens  the  heavens  like  the  arm  of  a  Titan, 
the  whole  of  old  Florence,  with  her  Guelphs,  her  Ghibe- 
lines,  her  balie,  her  priors,  her  lords,  her  guilds,  her  condot- 
tierij  her  turbulent  mobs  and  her  haughty  aristocracy 
appeared  to  me  as  though  I  were  about  to  take  part  in  the 
exiling  of  Cosmo  the  Elder,  or  in  the  execution  of  Sal- 
viati.  In  fact,  four  centuries  of  history  and  art  are  there  on 
the  right,  on  the  left,  in  front  and  behind,  surrounding  you 
on  all  sides  and  speaking  at  once  with  their  stone,  marble 
and  bronze  of  Nicholas  d'Uzzano,  Orcagna,  Rinaldo 
d'Albizzi,  Donatello,  Pazzi,  Raphael,  Lorenzo  de'  Medici, 
Flaminius  Vacca,  Savonarola,  John  of  Bologna,  Cosmo  I. 
and  Michelangelo. 

The  whole  world  may  be  searched  in  vain  for  a  spot 
that  brings  such  names  together,  without  counting  those 
I  have  omitted  !  and  some  of  the  omissions  include  Baccio 
Bandinelli,  Ammanato,  and  Benvenuto  Cellini. 

I  should  much  like  to  reduce  this  magnificent  chaos  to 


42  PALAZZO  VECCHIO 

some  sort  of  order  and  chronologically  classify  the  great 
men,  the  great  works  and  the  great  memories,  but  that  is 
impossible.  When  you  arrive  at  this  wonderful  square, 
you  must  go  where  the  eye  carries  you,  or  where  instinct 
guides  you. 

What  first  engrosses  the  attention  of  the  artist,  the  poet, 
or  the  archaeologist,  is  the  sombre  Palazzo  Vecchio,  still 
blazoned  with  the  ancient  arms  of  the  republic,  amid 
which  glitter  on  the  azure,  like  stars  in  the  sky,  those  in- 
numerable fleurs-de-lys  sown  along  the  road  to  Naples  by 
Charles  of  Anjou. 

Florence  was  hardly  free  before  she  wanted  to  have  a 
town  hall  as  an  abode  for  a  chief  magistrate  and  a  belfry  for 
calling  the  people  together.  When  a  community  is  con- 
stituted in  the  North,  or  a  republic  established  in  the  South, 
the  desire  for  a  town-hall  and  a  belfry  is  always  the  first 
operation  of  its  will,  and  the  satisfaction  of  that  desire  the 
first  proof  of  its  existence. 

Thus  in  1298,  that  is  to  say  only  sixteen  years  after  the 
Florentines  had  conquered  their  constitution,  Arnolfo  di 
Lapo  received  from  the  rulers  the  order  to  build  a  palace 
for  them. 

Arnolfo  di  Lapo  had  visited  the  site  reserved  for  him 
and  had  prepared  his  plans  accordingly.  But  at  the  mo- 
ment of  laying  the  foundations  of  his  edifice,  the  people 
loudly  forbade  him  to  place  a  single  stone  upon  the  spot 
where  the  house  of  Farinata  des  Uberti  had  stood.  Arnolfo 
di  Lapo  was  forced  to  bow  to  this  popular  clamour;  he 
pushed  his  edifice  back  into  a  corner  and  left  the  accursed 


PALAZZO  VECCHIO,  ITALY. 


PALAZZO  VECCHIO 


43 


spot  unoccupied.  Even  to  the  present  time  neither  stones 
nor  trees  have  planted  their  roots  there  and  nothing  has  in- 
truded for  more  than  six  centuries  where  Guelph  vengeance 
drove  the  plough  and  sowed  with  salt. 

This  palace  was  the  residence  of  a  standard-bearer  and 
eight  priors,  two  for  each  quarter  of  the  city ;  their  charge 
lasted  for  sixty  days  and  during  that  time  they  lived  to- 
gether, eating  at  the  same  table  and  not  being  able  to  leave 
their  residence  :  that  is  to  say,  they  were  almost  prisoners. 
Each  had  two  domestics  to  serve  him  and  there  was  always 
a  notary  at  their  orders  ready  to  write  down  their  delibera- 
tions :  he  ate  with  them  and  was  a  prisoner  like  themselves. 
As  a  recompense  for  the  sacrifice  of  his  time  and  liberty 
that  each  prior  made  for  the  republic,  he  received  ten 
pounds  a  day,  or  nearly  seven  francs  of  our  money.  At 
that  day,  private  parsimony  ruled  in  public  economy,  and 
the  government  thus  found  itself  in  a  position  to  execute 
great  things  in  art  and  in  war.  Thence  resulted  its  sur- 
name of  the  Magnificent  Republic. 

You  enter  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  by  a  door  situated  about  a 
third  of  the  way  along  the  front  and  find  yourself  in  a  little 
square  court,  surrounded  by  a  portico  supported  by  nine 
columns  of  Lombard  architecture  embellished  with  applied 
ornaments.  In  the  centre  of  this  court  is  a  fountain  sur- 
mounted by  a  rococo  Cupid  holding  a  fish  and  reposing 
on  a  porphyry  basin.  At  the  time  of  Ferdinand's  marriage 
this  portico  was  adorned  with  fresco  paintings  representing 
bird's-eye  views  of  the  cities  of  Germany. 

On  the  first  floor  is  the  great  Council  Hall,  executed  by 


44  PALAZZO  VECCHIO 

the  orders  of  the  Republic  and  at  Savonarola's  suggestion. 
A  thousand  citizens  could  deliberate  there  at  their  ease. 
Cronaca  was  the  architect,  and  he  pushed  the  work  so 
rapidly  that  Savonarola  used  to  say  that  the  angels  served 
as  his  masons. 

Cronaca  had  need  of  haste,  for  three  years  later  Savona- 
rola was  to  die  and  thirty  years  afterwards  the  Republic 
was  to  fall. 

Therefore  this  immense  hall  has  retained  nothing  of  that 
period  but  its  original  form  :  all  of  its  ornamentation  be- 
longs to  the  time  of  the  principality  ;  its  frescoes  and  ceil- 
ing are  by  Vasari ;  its  pictures  by  Cigoli,  Ligozzi  and  Pas- 
segnano ;  and  its  statues  by  Michelangelo,  Baccio  Bandi- 
nelli  and  John  of  Bologna. 

All  is  to  the  great  glory  of  Cosmo  I. 

In  fact,  Cosmo  I.  is  one  of  those  gigantic  statues  that 
history  raises  like  a  pyramid  to  mark  the  limit  where  one 
era  ends  and  another  begins.  Cosmo  I.  is  at  the  same  time 
the  Augustus  and  the  Tiberius  of  Tuscany,  and  this  is  so 
much  the  more  true  in  that  at  the  moment  when  Alex- 
ander fell  beneath  the  poniard  of  Lorenzino,  Florence  found 
herself  in  the  same  situation  as  Rome  was  after  Caesar's 
death  :  "  There  was  no  longer  a  tyrant,  but  there  was  no 
longer  any  liberty." 

At  fifteen  years  of  age  his  character  was  already  out- 
lined and  those  who  approached  him  could  form  an  idea  of 
what  he  would  be  later.  His  appearance  was  grave  and 
even  severe;  he  was  slow  to  form  familiar  relations  and 
would  seldom  allow  any  familiarities  ;  but  when  he  granted 


PALAZZO  VECCHIO 


45 


this  double  concession  it  was  a  proof  of  his  friendship,  and 
his  friendship  was  sure ;  nevertheless,  even  with  his  friends 
he  was  discrete  in  all  his  actions  and  did  not  want  any  one 
to  know  what  he  intended  to  do  until  it  was  done.  The 
result  was  that  he  always  seemed  to  be  seeking  some  end 
contrary  to  his  real  one,  which  always  rendered  his  answers 
brief  and  sometimes  obscure. 

This  was  Cosmo  when  he  learnt  the  news  of  the  assas- 
sination of  Alexander  and  the  .flight  of  Lorenzino;  this 
flight  left  him  without  a  competitor  for  the  princedom  and 
therefore  his  measures  were  quickly  taken.  He  gathered 
together  a  few  friends  on  whom  he  could  depend,  mounted 
his  horse,  and  set  out  for  Florence. 

Cosmo  was  rewarded  for  his  confidence  by  the  welcome 
that  he  received  :  he  entered  the  city  amid  the  joyous  ac- 
clamations of  all  the  inhabitants.  Two  days  after,  he  was 
named  chief  and  governor  of  the  republic  on  four  condi- 
tions: 

To  dispense  justice  indifferently  to  the  rich  and  to  the 
poor. 

Never  to  consent  to  restore  the  authority  of  Charles  the 
Fifth. 

To  avenge  the  death  of  Duke  Alexander. 

To  treat  well  Giulio  and  Giula,  the  natural  children  of 
the  latter. 

Cosmo  accepted  this  species  of  charter  with  humility 
and  the  people  accepted  Cosmo  with  enthusiasm. 

But  there  happened  to  the  new  grand  duke  what  happens 
to  all  men  of  genius  who  are  raised  to  power  by  revolution. 


46  PALAZZO  VECCHIO 

On  the  lowest  step  of  the  throne  they  receive  laws, 
from  the  top  step  they  impose  them. 

The  position  was  difficult,  particularly  for  a  youth  of 
eighteen.  It  was  necessary  to  fight  external  and  internal 
foes  at  the  same  time ;  to  substitute  a  firm  government,  a 
single  power  and  a  durable  will  for  all  those  flabby  or  tyran- 
nical governments,  for  all  those  powers  that  were  opposed 
and  consequently  destructive  to  one  another,  and  for  all 
those  wills  which  sometimes  starting  from  above  and  some- 
times from  below  caused  a  perpetual  ebb  and  flow  of  aris- 
tocracy and  democracy  upon  which  it  was  impossible  to 
establish  anything  solid  and  durable.  And  yet  with  all  that 
it  was  necessary  so  to  manage  the  liberties  of  this  people 
that  neither  nobles,  citizens,  nor  artisans  might  feel  the 
master.  In  fact  it  was  necessary  to  manage  this  horse, 
that  was  still  rebellious  under  tyranny,  with  an  iron  hand 
beneath  a  silken  glove. 

Cosmo  was  in  every  respect  the  man  needed  to  carry 
through  such  a  work.  As  dissimulating  as  Louis  the 
Eleventh,  passionate  as  Henry  the  Eighth,  brave  as  Francis 
the  First,  persevering  as  Charles  the  Fifth  and  magnificent 
as  Leo  the  Tenth,  he  had  all  the  vices  that  make  private  life 
sombre  and  all  the  virtues  that  make  public  life  brilliant. 
Therefore  his  family  was  unhappy  and  his  people  happy. 

Cosmo  was  one  of  the  most  learned  men  of  his  time. 
Among  other  things  he  knew  a  great  number  of  plants  and 
the  places  where  they  grew,  where  they  lived  the  longest, 
where  they  had  the  strongest  scent,  where  they  produced 
the  most  beautiful  flowers,  or  bore  the  finest  fruits,  and 


PALAZZO  VECCHIO 


47 


what  were  their  virtues  for  curing  the  diseases  or  wounds 
of  men  and  animals ;  then,  as  he  was  an  excellent  chemist, 
with  the  plants  he  made  waters,  essences,  oils,  medica- 
ments, and  balms,  and  gave  his  remedies  to  all  who  asked 
for  them  whether  they  were  rich  or  poor,  Tuscan  subjects 
or  foreigners,  inhabitants  of  Florence  or  any  other  part  of 
Europe.  Cosmo  loved  and  protected  letters.  In  1541  he 
founded  the  Florentine  Academy  which  he  called  his  u  very 
dear  and  happy  Academy  "  :  Plutarch  and  Dante  were  read 
and  commented  on  there.  The  sessions  were  first  held  in 
the  Via  Larga  Palace  and  afterwards,  so  that  it  might  have 
more  ease  and  freedom,  he  gave  it  the  great  council-room 
in  the  Palazzo  Vecchio.  After  the  fall  of  the  republic  this 
great  hall  had  become  useless. 

Cosmo  was  an  artist  and  it  was  not  his  fault  if  he  ar- 
rived at  the  moment  when  great  men  were  departing.  Of 
all  that  brilliant  galaxy  that  had  illuminated  the  reigns  of 
Julius  the  Second  and  Leo  the  Tenth,  Michelangelo  alone 
remained.  He  did  everything  he  could  to  get  the  latter  : 
he  sent  a  cardinal  and  an  embassy  offering  him  any  sum  of 
money  he  might  name,  the  title  of  senator  and  any  office 
he  wished  ;  but  Paul  the  Third  kept  him  and  would  not 
give  him  up.  Then,  in  default  of  the  Florentine  giant,  he 
gathered  together  the  best  he  could  find.  Ammanato,  his 
engineer,  built  for  him  the  fine  bridge  of  the  Trinity  after 
the  plans  of  Michelangelo,  and  carved  for  him  the  marble 
Neptune  in  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  Square.  He  made  Baccio 
Bandinelli  produce  the  statues  of  Pope  Clement  the 
Seventh,  Duke  Alexander,  Giovanni  de'  Medici,  his  father, 


48  PALAZZO  VECCHIO 

and  his  own  statue;  the  Loggia  of  the  Mercato  Nuovo  and 
the  choir  of  the  Cathedral.  Benvcnuto  Cellini  was  recalled 
from  France  to  cast  his  Perseus  in  bronze,  to  carve  agate 
cups  and  to  engrave  gold  medals  for  him.  Then  as  there 
had  been  found  in  the  environs  of  Arezzo  a  lot  of  little 
bronze  figures,  some  of  which  lacked  the  head,  others  the 
hands,  and  others  the  feet,  Cosmo  cleaned  them  himself 
and  carefully  removed  the  rust  so  that  they  might  not  be 
damaged. 

By  means  of  his  chemical  researches,  Cosmo,  with 
Francesco  Ferruci  of  Fiesole,  recovered  the  art  of  cutting 
porphyry,  which  had  been  lost  since  Roman  times. 

Lastly,  he  brought  together  in  the  Via  Larga  and  Pitti 
Palaces  all  the  pictures,  statues  and  medals,  whether  ancient 
or  modern,  that  had  been  painted,  carved,  engraved  or  dis- 
covered in  excavations  by  Cosmo  the  Elder,  Lorenzino,  and 
Duke  Alexander,  and  that  had  twice  been  pillaged  and  dis- 
persed : — first,  when  Charles  VIII.  passed  through,  and 
again  at  the  assassination  of  Duke  Alexander  by  Lorenzino. 

Therefore  the  praise  of  his  contemporaries  outweighed 
the  blame  of  posterity  :  the  dark  side  of  his  life  was  lost  in 
the  brilliant  side,  and  people  forget  that  this  protector  of 
art,  science  and  literature  slew  one  son,  poisoned  one 
daughter  and  violated  another. 

We  see  then  that  there  was  something  of  both  Augustus 
and  Tiberius  in  Cosmo  I. 

Now  let  us  return  to  the  hall  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio. 
The  picture,  not  the  most  remarkable  from  an  artistic  point 
of  view,  but  certainly  the  most  extraordinary  as  a  recorded 


PALAZZO  VECCHIO 


49 


fact,  is  one  by  Ligozzi  representing  the  reception  given  by 
Boniface  VIII.  to  twelve  ambassadors  of  twelve  powers, 
who  were  all  found  to  be  Florentines ;  so  incontestable 
throughout  the  world  was  the  political  genius  of  the  Mag- 
nificent Republic  during  the  Thirteenth  and  Fourteenth 
Centuries. 

These  twelve  ambassadors  were  : 

Muciato  Franzizi  for  the  King  of  France. 

Ugolino  di  Vicchio  for  the  King  of  England. 

Raniere  Langru  for  the  King  of  Bohemia. 

Vermiglio  Alfani  for  the  King  of  the  Germans. 

Simone  Rossi  for  Rasca. 

Bernardo  Ervai  for  the  Lord  of  Verona. 

Guicardo  Bastai  for  the  Khan  of  Tartary. 

Manno  Fronte  for  the  King  of  Naples. 

Guido  Tabanca  for  the  King  of  Sicily. 

Lapo  Farinata  des  Uberti  for  Pisa. 

Gino  di  Dietaselvi  for  the  lord  of  Camerino. 

Bencivenni  Folchi  for  the  Grand  Master  of  the  Hospital 
of  Jerusalem. 

It  was  this  strange  gathering  that  made  Boniface  VIII. 
say  that  a  fifth  element  had  come  into  the  world,  and  that 
the  Florentines  constituted  this  element. 

The  enormous  frescoes  that  cover  the  walls,  as  well  as 
all  the  pictures  on  the  ceiling,  are  by  Vasari.  The  frescoes 
represent  the  wars  of  the  Florentines  against  Siena  and 
Pisa.  It  was  for  the  latter  that  Michelangelo  prepared 
those  beautiful  cartoons  that  disappeared  without  any  one 
knowing  what  had  become  of  them. 


50  PALAZZO  VECCHIO 

In  the  other  chambers  of  the  palace,  which  are  the  liv- 
ing-rooms, there  are  also  a  considerable  number  of  paint- 
ings of  almost  the  same  period.  One  exception  is  a 
charming  little  chapel  by  Rodolfo  Guirlandaio,  the  re- 
strained and  religious  execution  of  which  forms  a  strange 
contrast  to  the  facile  and  pagan  painting  of  the  beginning 
of  the  Decadence. 

Entirely  upset  as  it  was  by  the  arrangements  of  Cosmo 
I.,  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  yet  materially  preserves  one  mem- 
ory of  the  Republic :  this  is  the  Barberia  Tower  in  which 
Cosmo  the  Elder  was  confined,  and  at  the  door  of  which, 
later  during  the  Pazzi  conspiracy,  the  brave  standard- 
bearer,  Cesare  Petrucci,  mounted  guard  with  a  spit.  In 
this  tower,  Cosmo  the  Elder  spent  what  were  certainly  the 
four  worst  days  of  his  long  life,  the  fear  of  being  poisoned 
by  his  enemies  preventing  him  from  taking  any  nourish- 
ment. 


KENSINGTON  PALACE 

LEIGH   HUNT 

IT  is  not  improbable  that  Kensington  Palace  and 
Gardens  originated  in  the  royal  nursery  established  in 
this  district,  for  the  benefit  of  his  children,  by  King  Henry 
the  Eighth.  If  so,  here  Queen  Elizabeth  grew  up  awhile, 
as  well  as  Queen  Victoria,  and  here  health  was  in  vain  at- 
tempted to  be  given  to  the  sicklier  temperaments  of 
Edward  the  Sixth,  who  died  young,  and  his  sister,  Queen 
Mary,  who  lived  only  to  be  an  unhappy  bigot. 

As  the  circumstance,  however,  does  not  appear  ascer- 
tainable,  antiquaries  must  put  up  with  the  later  and  less 
illustrious  origin  which  has  been  found  for  these  dis- 
tinguished premises,  in  the  house  and  grounds  belonging  to 
the  family  of  the  Finches,  Earls  of  Nottingham,  whether 
the  tenement  which  they  occupied  had  once  been  royal  or 
not,  it  seems  to  have  been  but  a  small  mansion  in  their 
time ;  probably  consisting  of  nothing  more  than  the  now 
least-visible  portion  of  it  north-west ;  and  indeed,  though  it 
was  subsequently  enlarged  under  almost  every  one  of  the 
sovereigns  by  whom  it  was  occupied,  it  was  never,  in  one 
respect,  anything  but  what  it  is  still,  namely,  one  of  the 
plainest  and  least  pretending  of  princely  abodes. 

In    vain  we   are    told,  that  Wren    is  supposed  to  have 


52  KENSINGTON    PALACE 

built  the  south  front,  and  Kent  (a  man  famous  in  his  time) 
the  east  front.  We  can  no  more  get  up  any  enthusiasm 
about  it  as  a  building,  than  if  it  were  a  box,  or  a  piece  of 
cheese.  But  it  possesses  a  Dutch  solidity ;  it  can  be 
imagined  full  of  English  comfort ;  it  is  quiet ;  it  is  a  good 
air;  and  though  it  is  a  palace,  no  tragical  history  is  con- 
nected with  it ;  all  which  considerations  give  it  a  sort  of 
homely,  fireside  character,  which  seems  to  represent  the 
domestic  side  of  royalty  itself,  and  thus  renders  an  in- 
teresting service  to  what  is  not  always  so  well  recommended 
by  cost  and  splendour.  Windsor  Castle  is  a  place  to  re- 
ceive monarchs  in  ;  Buckingham  Palace  to  see  fashion  in ; 
Kensington  Palace  seems  a  place  to  drink  tea  in ;  and  this 
is  by  no  means  a  state  of  things,  in  which  the  idea  of 
royalty  comes  least  home  to  the  good  wishes  of  the  sub- 
jects. The  reigns  that  flourished  here,  appositely  enough 
to  this  notion  of  the  building,  were  all  tea-drinking  reigns 
— at  least,  on  the  part  of  the  ladies  ;  and  if  the  present 
queen  does  not  reign  there,  she  was  born  and  bred  there, 
growing  up  quietly  under  the  care  of  a  domestic  mother; 
during  which  time,  the  pedestrian,  as  he  now  goes  quietly 
along  the  gardens,  fancies  no  harsher  sound  to  have  been 
heard  from  the  Palace  windows,  than  the  "  tuning  of  the 
tea-things,"  or  the  sound  of  a  piano-forte, 

We  may  thus,  in  imagination,  see  the  house  and  the 
gardens  growing  larger  with  each  successive  proprietor. 
First,  there  is  Heneage  Finch,  the  Speaker  of  the  House 
of  Commons,  at  the  accession  of  Charles  the  First ;  for  he 
is  the  earliest  occupant  we  can  discover. 


KENSINGTON    PALACE 


53 


This  gentleman  possessed  but  fifteen  acres  of  ground ; 
which  his  son,  Sir  Heneage  Finch,  afterwards  Earl  of 
Nottingham,  increased  by  a  grant  that  was  made  him  out 
of  Hyde  Park.  To  the  Earl's  son  and  heir,  Daniel, 
succeeded  King  William  the  Third,  who  bought  the  house 
and  grounds  of  Daniel,  and  enlarged  them  both,  the  latter 
to  the  extent  of  twenty-six  acres.  Anne  added  thirty 
acres ;  Queen  Caroline,  wife  of  George  the  Second,  added 
three  hundred;  and  the  house,  which  had  been  growing  all 
this  time,  was  finally  brought  to  its  present  size  or  appear- 
ance by  the  late  Duke  of  Sussex,  who  added  or  rebuilt  the 
rooms,  with  their  still  fresh-looking  brick-work,  that  form 
the  angle  on  the  south-west. 

The  house  nominally  possesses  gardens  that  are  miles  in 
circumference ;  but  these  having  become  public  every  day 
in  the  week,  which  in  the  early  times  of  the  Georges  was 
not  the  case,  it  has,  in  reality,  to  any  sequestered  purpose 
of  enjoyment,  no  gardens  at  all,  except  at  one  corner. 

The  gardens  in  the  time  of  the  Finches  consisted  of 
little  but  the  ground  squaring  with  the  north  side  of  the 
Palace,  laid  out  in  the  first  formal  and  sombre  style  of  our 
native  gardening,  and  originating  the  still  existing  circle  of 
yew  trees,  a  disposition  of  things  congenial  with  the  own- 
ers. Heneage  Finch,  the  Speaker,  and  his  sons,  the  first 
and  second  Earls  of  Nottingham,  were  all  lawyers  and 
statesmen ;  and  though  a  clever,  and  upon  the  whole,  a 
worthy,  appear  to  have  been  a  melancholy  race.  The  first 
Earl  suffered  under  a  long  depression  of  spirits  before  he 
died  ;  the  second  was  a  man  of  so  atrabilarious  a  complex- 


$4  KENSINGTON    PALACE 

ion  that  he  was  nicknamed  Dismal ;  and  Dismal's  son, 
from  a  like  swarthy  appearance,  and  the  way  in  which  he 
neglected  his  dress,  was  called  the  chimney-sweep.  Han- 
bury  Williams,  the  reigning  lampooner  of  the  days  of 
George  the  Second,  designated  the  whole  race  as  the 
"black  funereal  Finches." 

These  unusual  "  Finches  of  the  Grove,"  made  way  for 
a  kind  of  Jupiter's  bird  in  the  eagle-nosed,  hawk-eyed, 
gaunt  little  William  the  Third ;  a  personage  as  formal  and 
melancholy  as  themselves,  though  not  so  noisy  (for  Dismal, 
notwithstanding  his  formality,  was  a  great  talker) ;  and 
under  William,  the  Gardens  though  they  grew  larger,  did 
but  exchange  English  formality  for  Dutch.  The  walks 
became  longer  and  straighter,  like  canals  ;  the  yews  were 
restrained  and  clipped ;  there  was,  perhaps,  a  less  number 
of  flowers,  comparatively  ;  for  the  English  had  always  been 
fond  of  flowers,  and  the  Dutch  had  not  yet  grown  mad 
(commercially)  for  tulips;  in  short,  William  the  Third 
with  a  natural  love  for  his  Dutch  home,  made  the  palace 
and  gardens  look  as  much  like  it  as  he  could. 

And  his  Court,  for  the  most  part,  was  as  gloomy  as  the 
gardens ;  for  William  was  not  fond  of  his  new  subjects ; 
did  not  choose  to  converse  with  them ;  and  was  seldom 
visible  but  to  his  Dutch  friends.  Yet  here  were  occasion- 
ally to  be  seen  some  of  the  liveliest  wits  and  courtiers  that 
have  left  a  name  in  history,  forsakers,  indeed,  of  reserved 
and  despotic  King  James,  rather  than  enthusiasts  for  the 
equally  reserved  and  hardly  less  power-loving  King  William, 
who  had  become,  however,  by  the  force  of  circumstances, 


KENSINGTON    PALACE 


55 


the  instrument  for  securing  freedom.  Here  came  the 
Earl  of  Dorset,  Prior's  friend,  who  had  been  one  of  the 
wits  of  the  Court  of  Charles  the  Second ;  Prior,  himself, 
who  had  stirred  William's  Dutch  phlegm  so  agreeably  as  to 
be  made  one  of  the  gentlemen  of  his  bedchamber;  Con- 
greve,  whose  plays  Queen  Mary  admired  ;  Halifax,  a  minor 
wit,  but  no  mean  statesman ;  Sir  William  Temple,  who 
combined  public  with  private  life  to  so  high  a  degree  of 
wisdom  and  elegance  j  Swift  (probably)  then  a  young  man, 
whom  Sir  William  made  use  of  in  his  communications  with 
the  king  ;  Burnet,  the  gossiping  historian,  sometimes  wrong- 
headed,  but  generally  right-hearted,  whose  officious  zeal  for 
the  Revolution  had  made  him  a  bishop ;  the  Earl  of 
Devonshire,  whose  nobler  zeal  had  made  him  a  duke,  one 
of  a  family  remarkable  for  their  constant  and  happy  com- 
bination of  popular  politics  with  all  the  graces  of  their 
rank ;  Lord  Monmouth,  afterwards  the  famous,  restless 
Earl  of  Peterborough,  friend  of  Swift  and  Pope,  conqueror 
of  Spain,  and  lover,  at  the  age  of  seventy,  of  Lady  Suffolk ; 
Sheffield,  afterwards  Duke  of  Buckinghamshire,  a  minor 
wit  and  poet,  in  love  with  (the  rank  of)  the  Princess  Anne ; 
and  last,  not  least  in  anything,  but  good -breeding,  and  a 
decent  command  over  his  passions,  Peter  the  Great,  semi- 
barbarian,  the  premature  freer  of  Russian  pseudo-civiliza- 
tion, who  came  to  England  in  order  to  import  the  art  of 
ship-building  into  his  dominions,  in  his  own  proper  me- 
chanical person,  and  out  of  the  five  months  which  he  spent 
here,  passed  a  good  many  days  out  of  one  of  them  in  in- 
terchanging visits  with  King  William  at  Kensington. 


56  KENSINGTON    PALACE 

The  only  distinct  personal  anecdote  recorded  of  William 
the  Third  in  connection  with  Kensington  will  remind  the 
reader  of  similar  paternal  stories  of  Agesilaus  and  others. 

A  tap  was  heard  one  day,  at  his  closet  door,  while  his 
secretary  was  in  attendance. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  said  the  king. 

"  Lord  Buck,"  answered  the  little  voice  of  a  child  of 
four  years  of  age.  It  was  Lord  Buckhurst,  the  son  of  his 
Majesty's  lord  high  chamberlain,  the  Earl  of  Dorset. 

"  And  what  does  Lord  Buck  want  ?  "  returned  William, 
opening  the  door. 

"  You  to  be  a  horse  to  my  coach,"  rejoined  the  little 
magnate.  "  I've  wanted  you  a  long  time."  • 

William  smiled  upon  his  little  friend,  with  an  amiable- 
ness  which  the  secretary  had  never  before  thought  his 
countenance  capable  of  expressing,  and  taking  the  string  of 
the  toy  in  his  hand,  dragged  it  up  and  down  the  long  gal- 
lery till  his  playfellow  was  satisfied. 

The  Court  and  Gardens  of  Kensington  were  not  livelier 
in  Queen  Anne's  time  than  in  that  of  King  William. 
Anne,  as  we  have  seen  at  Campden  House,  was  a  dull 
woman  with  a  dull  husband.  They  had  little  to  say  for 
themselves ;  their  greatest  pleasures  were  in  eating  and 
drinking ;  the  Queen  was  absurdly  found  of  etiquette  ; 
and  as  there  was  nothing  to  startle  decorum  in  the  court 
morals,  the  mistress  in  King  William's  time  had  given 
something  of  a  livelier  stir  to  the  gossip.  Swift  describes 
Anne  in  a  circle  of  twenty  visitors  as  sitting  with  her  fan 
in  her  mouth,  saying  about  three  words  once  a  minute  to 


KENSINGTON    PALACE 


57 


some  that  were  near  her,  and  then  upon  hearing  that 
dinner  was  ready,  going  out.  In  the  evening  she  played  at 
cards;  which,  long  before,  and  afterwards,  was  the  usual 
court  pastime  at  that  hour. 

She  does  not  appear  to  have  been  fond  of  music,  or  pic- 
tures, or  books,  or  anything  but  what  administered  to  the 
commonest  animal  satisfactions,  or  which  delivered  her 
mind  at  all  other  times  from  its  tendency  to  irresolution  and 
tedium. 

Addison  and  Steele  might  have  been  occasionally  seen  at 
her  Kensington  levees  among  the  Whigs ;  and  Swift, 
Prior,  and  Bolingbroke  among  the  Tories.  Marlborough 
would  be  there  also ;  ever  courtly  and  smiling,  whether  he 
was  victorious  as  general  and  as  the  favourite  Duchess's 
husband,  or  only  bowing  the  more  obsequiously  alas  !  for 
fear  of  losing  his  place  and  his  perquisites. 

Anne  enlarged  the  Gardens,  but  she  did  not  improve  the 
style  of  gardening.  Addison  in  a  paper  of  the  Spectator^ 
written  during  the  last  year  but  one  of  her  reign,  catching 
the  last  glimpse  of  a  variation,  speaks  with  rapture  of  the 
conversation  of  a  disused  gravel-pit,  which  had  been  left 
remaining,  into  a  cultivated  dell ;  but  it  would  seem  as 
if  this  exploit  on  the  part  of  the  gardeners  was  rather  in 
the  hope  of  making  the  best  of  what  they  considered  a  bad 
thing,  than  intended  as  an  advance  towards  something 
better ;  for  they  laid  out  the  Queen's  additional  acres  in 
the  same  formal  style  as  King  William's. 

Long,  straight  gravel-walks,  and  clipped  hedges,  pre- 
vailed throughout,  undiversified  with  the  present  mixture  of 


58  KENSINGTON    PALACE 

freer  growing  wood.  An  alcove  or  two,  still  existing,  were 
added ;  and  Anne  exerted  herself  to  build  a  long  kind  of 
out-house,  which  still  remains;  and  which  she  intended,  it 
is  said,  for  the  balls  and  suppers  which  certainly  took  place 
in  it ;  though  we  suspect,  from  the  narrowness  of  its  con- 
struction, it  never  was  designed  for  anything  but  what  it  is, 
a  green-house. 

These  most  probably  constituted  all  those  "elegancies 
of  art,"  with  which  a  writer  of  the  time  gives  her  credit  for 
improving  the  Gardens.  Such,  at  any  rate,  was  the  case 
in  the  more  public  portions  of  them ;  and  if  the  private 
ones  enjoyed  any  others,  we  may  guess  what  they  were, 
from  Pope's  banter  of  the  horticultural  fashions  of  the  day, 
in  a  paper  which  he  contributed  to  the  Guardian,  the  year 
after  the  appearance  of  that  of  Addison's  in  the  Spectator. 
The  following  is  a  taste  of  them.  The  poet  is  giving  a 
catalogue  of  plants  that  were  to  be  disposed  of  by  auction  : 

"  Adam  and  Eve  in  yew ;  Adam  a  little  shattered  by  the 
fall  of  the  Tree  of  Knowledge  in  the  great  storm  ;  Eve  and 
the  Serpent  very  flourishing. 

"  St.  George  in  box  ;  his  arm  scarce  long  enough,  but 
will  be  in  a  condition  to  stick  the  Dragon  by  next  April. 

"  An  old  Maid  of  Honour  in  wormwood. 

"  A  topping  Ben  Jonson  in  laurel. 

"  A  quick-set  hog,  shot  up  into  a  porcupine,  by  its  being 
forgot  a  week  in  rainy  weather." 

The  Kensington  Gardens  were  popular  throughout  the 
whole  of  the  three  Georges'  reign,  but  flourished  most,  as 
far  as  names  and  fashions  are  concerned,  in  those  of  the 


KENSINGTON    PALACE 


59 


first  and  second.  The  space  of  time  includes  half  a  cen- 
tury ;  and  Walpole,  Lady  Suffolk,  Beau  Nash,  and  Colley 
Gibber,  lived  through  it  all ;  the  two  last  from  a  much 
earlier  period,  and  Walpole  into  a  much  later  one,  down  to 
the  French  Revolution.  At  the  beginning  of  it,  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montague,  with  the  wits  of  the  Kit-Cat 
club  about  her,  may  be  considered  as  having  been  the 
reigning  belle  of  the  promenaders  ;  to  her,  succeeded  the 
Bellendens  and  Lepells,  with  the  same  wits  grown  older ; 
then  came  Lady  Townshend,  with  the  new  wits,  Horace 
Walpole,  Selwyn,  Hanbury  Williams,  and  others ;  and  then 
crowds  were  alternately  drawn  by  the "  Chudleigh  "  and 
the  Miss  Gunnings. 

With  the  decease  of  George  the  Second,  glory  departed 
from  Kensington  as  far  as  Courts  were  concerned.  No 
reigning  sovereign  has  resided  there  since  George  the 
Third,  who  inheriting,  perhaps,  a  dislike  of  the  place  from 
his  father,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  appears  to  have  taken  no 
notice  of  it,  except  in  appointing  the  clever,  but  impudent 
quack,  Sir  John  Hill,  its  gardener,  at  the  recommendation 
of  Sir  John's  then  omnipotent  brother  botanist,  the  Earl  of 
Bute. 

George  the  Fourth  probably  regarded  the  place  as  a 
homely  concern,  quite  out  of  his  line.  It  might  suit  well 
enough  the  book-collecting  inclinations  of  his  brother,  the 
Duke  of  Sussex,  with  which  he  had  no  sympathy ;  was  not 
amiss  as  a  means  of  affording  a  lodging  to  his  brother,  the 
Duke  of  Kent,  with  whose  habits  of  regularity,  and  par- 
donable amount  of  debt,  his  sympathies  were  as  little ;  and 


60  KENSINGTON    PALACE 

lastly  he  was  well  content  to  think,  that  the  staid-looking 
house  and  formal  gardens  rendered  the  spot  a  good  out-of- 
the-way  sort  of  place  enough,  for  obscuring  the  growth  and 
breeding  of  his  niece,  and  probable  heiress,  the  Princess 
Victoria,  whose  life,  under  the  guidance  of  a  wise  mother, 
promised  to  furnish  so  estimable  a  contrast  to  his  own. 
As  to  his  brother,  King  William  the  Fourth,  though  he  too 
was  a  brother,  in  most  respects,  very  different  from  him- 
self, we  never  heard  his  name  mentioned  in  any  way  what- 
ever in  connection  with  Kensington. 

Adieu  then,  for  the  present,  and  for  we  know  not  how 
long  a  time  hereafter,  to  Court-holdings  in  the  Palace;  to 
Court  splendours,  and  Court  scandals.  Adieu  Kings  listen- 
ing in  closets,  and  Queens  calumniated  by  ungrateful  biog- 
raphers. Adieu  even  Maids  of  Honour.  They  departed 
their  life  with  George  the  Second,  and  went  to  live  a  ter- 
ribly dull  one  with  his  grandson's  Queen,  Charlotte,  who 
nearly  tired  Miss  Burney  into  a  consumption. 


THE  MIKADO'S  PALACE 

PIERRE  LOTI 

AN  enclosure  of  large  walls.  My  djm  stop  in  front  of 
a  first  gateway  in  the  ancient  severe  and  religious 
style :  massive  columns  with  bases  of  bronze ;  a  narrow 
frieze  sculptured  with  strange  ornaments ;  and  a  heavy 
and  'enormous  roof. 

Then  I  walk  into  the  vast  deserted  courtyards,  planted 
with  venerable  trees,  to  the  branches  of  which  they  have 
given  props  like  crutches  for  old  men.  The  immense 
buildings  of  the  palace  first  appear  to  me  in  a  kind  of 
disorder  wherein  I  can  discern  no  plan  of  unity.  Every- 
where appear  these  high,  monumental  and  heavy  roofs, 
whose  corners  turn  up  in  Chinese  curves  and  bristle  with 
black  ornaments. 

Not  seeing  anyone,  I  walk  on  at  random. 

Here  is  arrested  absolutely  the  smile,  inseparable  from 
modern  Japan.  I  have  the  impression  of  entering  into  the 
silence  of  an  incomprehensible  Past,  into  the  dead  splendour 
of  a  civilization,  whose  architecture,  design,  and  aesthetic 
taste  are  to  me  strange  and  unknown. 

A  bonze  guard  who  sees  me,  advances,  and,  making  a 
bow,  asks  me  for  my  name  and  passport. 

It  is  satisfactory :   he  will   take  me  himself  to  see  the 


62  THE    MIKADO'S    PALACE 

entire  palace  on  condition  that  I  will  take  off  my  shoes  and 
remove  my  hat.  He  brings  me  even  velvet  sandals  which 
are  offered  to  visitors.  Thanks,  I  prefer  to  walk  with  bare 
feet  like  himself  and  we  begin  our  silent  walk  through  an 
interminable  series  of  halls  all  lacquered  in  gold  and  deco- 
rated with  a  rare  and  exquisite  strangeness. 

On  the  floor  there  is  always  and  everywhere  that  eternal 
spread  of  white  matting,  that  one  finds  just  as  simple,  as 
well  kept,  and  as  neat  in  the  homes  of  the  emperors,  in  the 
temples,  and  among  the  middle  classes  and  the  poor.  No 
furniture  anywhere,  for  this  is  something  unknown  in  Japan, 
or  slightly  known  at  most ;  the  palace  is  entirely  empty. 
All  the  surprising  magnificence  is  upon  the  walls  and  ceil- 
ings. The  precious  golden  lacquer  is  displayed  uniformly 
on  all  sides,  and  upon  this  background,  Byzantine  in  effect, 
all  the  celebrated  artists  of  the  great  Japanese  century  have 
painted  inimitable  objects.  Each  hall  has  been  decorated 
by  a  different  and  illustrious  painter,  whose  name  the  bonze 
cited  to  me  with  respect.  In  one  there  are  all  the  known 
flowers ;  in  another,  all  the  birds  of  the  air,  and  all  the 
beasts  of  the  earth ;  or  perhaps  hunting-scenes  and  com- 
bats, where  you  see  warriors  dressed  in  armour  and  ter- 
rifying helmets,  on  horseback  pursuing  monsters  and 
chimaeras.  The  most  peculiar  one,  assuredly,  is  decorated 
entirely  with  fans, — fans  of  all  forms  and  of  all  colours, 
open,  shut,  and  half  open,  thrown  with  extreme  grace  upon 
the  fine  golden  lacquer.  The  ceilings,  also  of  golden  lac- 
quer are  in  compartments,  painted  with  the  same  care  and 
the  same  art.  What  is,  perhaps,  the  most  marvellous  of 


THE    MIKADO'S    PALACE  63 

all,  is  that  series  of  high  pierced  friezes  that  extends 
around  all  the  ceilings  j  you  think  of  generations  of  patient 
workmen  who  have  worn  themselves  out  in  chiselling  such 
delicate,  almost  transparent,  things,  in  such  thicknesses  of 
wood :  sometimes  there  are  rosebushes,  sometimes  en- 
tanglements of  wistaria,  or  sheaves  of  rice;  elsewhere 
flights  of  storks  that  seem  to  cleave  the  air  with  great 
velocity,  forming  with  their  thousands  of  claws,  extended 
necks,  and  feathers,  a  crowd  so  beautifully  combined  that 
it  is  alive  and  scurrying  away,  nothing  lags  behind,  nor  falls 
into  confusion. 

In  this  palace,  which  is  windowless,  it  is  dusky, — a  half- 
darkness  favourable  to  enchantments.  The  greater  number 
of  these  halls  receive  a  shimmering  light  from  the  outside 
verandas  composed  only  of  lacquered  columns,  to  which 
they  are  entirely  open  on  one  side ;  it  is  the  subdued  light 
of  deep  sheds,  or  of  markets.  The  more  mysterious  in- 
terior apartments  open  on  the  first  by  other  similar  col- 
umns, and  receive  from  it  a  still  more  attenuated  light ; 
they  can  be  shut  at  will  by  bamboo  curtains  of  an  ex- 
treme delicacy,  whose  tissue  in  its  transparency  imitates 
that  of  a  wave,  and  which  are  raised  to  the  ceiling  by 
enormous  tassels  of  red  silk.  Communication  is  had  by 
species  of  doorways  the  forms  of  which  are  unusual  and 
unexpected :  sometimes  they  are  perfect  circles  and  some- 
times they  are  more  complicated  figures,  such  as  hexagons 
or  stars.  And  all  these  secondary  openings  have  frame- 
works of  black  lacquer  which  stand  out  with  an  elegant  dis- 
tinction upon  the  general  background  of  the  gold,  and 


64 


THE    MIKADO'S    PALACE 


which  bear  upon  the  corners  ornaments  of  bronze  marvel- 
lously chiselled  by  the  metal-workers  of  the  past. 

The  centuries  have  embellished  this  palace,  veiling  a 
little  the  glitter  of  the  objects  by  blending  all  these  har- 
monies of  gold  in  a  kind  of  very  gentle  shadow;  in  its 
silence  and  solitude  one  might  call  it  the  enchanted  dwell- 
ing of  some  Sleeping  Beauty^  of  a  princess  of  an  unknown 
world,  or  of  a  planet  that  could  not  be  our  own. 

We  pass  before  some  little  interior  gardens,  which  are, 
according  to  the  Japanese  custom,  miniature  reductions  of 
very  wild  places, — unlooked-for  contrasts  in  the  centre  of 
this  golden  palace.  Here  also  time  has  passed,  throwing 
its  emerald  upon  the  little  rocks,  the  tiny  lakes,  and  the 
small  abysses ;  sterilizing  the  little  mountains,  and  giving 
an  appearance  of  reality  to  all  that  is  minute  and  artificial. 
The  trees,  dwarfed  by  I  know  not  what  Japanese  proc- 
ess, have  not  grown  larger ;  but  they  have  taken  on  an  air 
of  extreme  old  age.  The  cycas  have  acquired  many 
branches,  because  of  their  hundreds  of  years;  one  would 
call  the  little  palms  of  multiple  trunks,  antidiluvian  plants ; 
or  rather  massive  black  candelabra,  whose  every  arm  carries 
at  its  extremity  a  fresh  bouquet  of  green  plumes. 

What  also  surprises  us  is  the  special  apartment  chosen 
by  this  Talko-Sama,  who  was  both  a  great  conqueror  and  a 
great  emperor.  It  is  very  small  and  very  simple,  and  looks 
upon  the  tiniest  and  the  most  artificial  of  the  little  gardens. 

The  Reception  Hall,  which  they  showed  me  last  of  all, 
is  the  largest  and  the  most  magnificent.  It  is  about  fifty 
metres  long,  and,  naturally,  all  in  golden  lacquer,  with  a 


THE    MIKADO'S    PALACE  65 

high  and  marvellous  frieze.  Always  no  furniture ;  nothing 
but  the  stages  of  lacquer  upon  which  the  handsome  lords 
on  arriving  placed  their  arms.  At  the  back,  behind  a 
colonnade,  is  the  platform,  where  Taiko-Sama  held  his  audi- 
ences, at  the  period  of  our  Henri  IV.  Then  it  is  that 
one  dreams  of  these  receptions,  of  these  entrances  of 
brilliant  noblemen,  whose  helmets  are  surmounted  by 
horns,  snouts  and  grotesque  figures ;  and  all  the  unheard-of 
ceremonial  of  this  court.  One  may  dream  of  all  this, 
but  he  will  not  clearly  see  it  revive.  Not  only  is  the 
period  too  remote,  but  it  is  too  far  away  in  grade  among 
the  races  of  the  earth  ;  it  is  too  far  outside  of  our  con- 
ceptions and  the  notions  that  we  have  inherited  regard- 
ing these  things.  It  is  the  same  in  the  old  temples  of 
this  country;  we  look  at  them  without  understanding,  the 
symbols  escape  us.  Between  Japan  and  ourselves  the  dif- 
ference of  origin  has  made  a  deep  abyss. 

"  We  shall  cross  another  hall,"  the  bonze  said  to  me, 
"  and  then  a  series  of  passages  that  will  lead  us  to  the  tem- 
ple of  the  palace." 

In  this  last  hall  there  are  some  people,  which  is  a  sur- 
prise, as  all  the  former  ones  were  empty ;  but  silence  dwells 
there  just  the  same.  The  men  squatting  all  around  the 
walls  seem  very  busy  writing ;  they  are  priests  copying 
prayers  with  tiny  pencils  on  rice-paper  to  sell  to  the  people. 
Here,  upon  the  golden  background  of  the  walls,  all  the 
paintings  represent  royal  tigers,  a  little  larger  than  their 
natural  size,  in  all  attitudes  of  fury ;  of  watching,  of  the 
hunt,  of  prowling,  or  of  sleep.  Above  these  motionless 


66  THE    MIKADO'S    PALACE 

bonzes  they  lift  their  great  heads,  so  expressive  and 
wicked,  showing  their  sharp  teeth. 

My  guide  bows  on  entering.  As  I  am  among  the  most 
polite  people  in  the  world,  I  feel  obliged  to  bow  also.  Then 
the  reverence  that  is  accorded  to  me  passes  all  along  the 
hall,  and  we  go  through. 

Passages  obstructed  with  manuscripts  and  bales  of  pray- 
ers are  passed,  and  we  are  in  the  temple.  It  is,  as  I  ex- 
pected, of  great  magnificence.  Walls,  ceilings,  columns, 
all  is  in  golden  lacquer,  the  high  frieze  representing  leaves 
and  bunches  of  enormous  peonies  very  full-blown  and 
sculptured  with  so  much  skill  that  they  seem  ready  to  drop 
their  leaves  at  the  least  breath  to  fall  in  a  golden  shower 
upon  the  floor.  Behind  a  colonnade,  in  the  darkest  place, 
are  the  idols  and  emblems,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  rich  col- 
lection of  sacred  vases,  incense-burners,  and  torch-bearers. 

Just  now  it  is  the  hour  of  Buddhist  service.  In  one  of 
the  courts,  a  gong,  with  the  deep  tones  of  a  double- 
bass,  begins  to  strike  with  extreme  deliberation.  Some 
bonzes  in  robes  of  black  gauze  with  green  surplices  make 
a  ritualistic  entrance,  the  passes  of  which  are  very  com- 
plicated, and  then  they  go  and  kneel  in  the  centre  of  the 
sanctuary.  There  are  very  few  of  the  faithful ;  scarcely 
two  or  three  groups,  which  seem  lost  in  this  great  temple. 
There  are  some  women  lying  on  the  matting,  having  brought 
their  little  smoking-boxes  and  their  little  pipes ;  they  are 
talking  in  very  low  voices  and  smothering  the  desire  to 
laugh. 

However,  the  gong  begins  to  sound  more  rapidly  and  the 


THE    MIKADO'S    PALACE  67 

priests  to  make  low  bows  to  their  gods.  It  sounds  still 
faster,  and  the  bows  of  the  bonzes  quicken,  while  the 
priests  prostrate  themselves  upon  their  faces  upon  the  earth. 

Then,  in  the  mystic  regions  something  happens  that  re- 
minds me  very  much  of  the  elevation  of  the  host  in  the 
Roman  cult.  Outside,  the  gong,  as  if  exasperated,  sounds 
with  rapid  strokes,  uninterruptedly  and  frantically. 

I  believe  that  I  have  seen  everything  now  in  this  palace ; 
but  I  still  do  not  understand  the  disposition  of  the  halls, 
the  plan  of  the  whole.  If  alone,  I  should  soon  become 
lost  in  it,  as  if  in  a  labyrinth. 

Happily,  my  guide  comes  to  take  me  out,  after  having 
put  my  shoes  on  me  himself.  Across  new  halls  of  silence, 
passing  by  an  old  and  gigantic  tree,  which  has  miraculous 
properties,  it  seems,  having  for  several  centuries  protected 
this  palace  from  fire,  he  conducts  me  through  the  same 
gate  by  which  I  entered  and  where  my  djin  are  waiting 
for  me. 


WARWICK  CASTLE 

LADY    WARWICK 

THE  character  of  ancient  buildings,  the  various  styles 
of  architecture  which  they  present  to  us,  their 
beauties  as  well  as  their  blemishes,  enable  any  one  whose 
darkness  may  be  lightened  by  the  diviner  radiance  of  a 
happy  power  of  imagination  to  recall  the  persons  and  the 
events  with  which  these  buildings  have  been  associated. 
The  gloomy  feudal  fortress  carries  the  mind  ^back  to  the 
Middle  Ages ;  the  abbey,  with  its  cloisters  and  windows 
and  all  the  surroundings  of  a  dim  religious  light,  reminds 
us  of  days  when  the  Head  of  the  Church  was  indeed 
Christ's  Vicar  here  upon  earth  ;  while  the  palace  suggests, 
side  by  side  with  its  stories  of  games  played  at  that  great 
game  in  which  men  are  but  as  pawns,  pictures  of  gallant 
gentlemen  and  fair  ladies  who,  though  being  dead,  yet  live 
before  us.  England  is  not  so  rich  in  these  varied  combina- 
tions of  palace,  abbey,  and  tower  as  is  France,  for  instance, 
and  particularly  Touraine.  Many  of  our  most  famous 
mediaeval  castles  have  been  suffered  to  fall  into  decay,  or, 
worse  still,  have  been  improved  into  modern  shape  by  the 
rash  hand  of  idle  innovators. 

There  is  one  among  our  castles,  however,  which  neither 
Time's  defacing  fingers  nor  man's  innovating  hand  has  de- 
spoiled— Warwick  Castle. 


WARWICK   CASTLE 


69 


Possibly  there  is  no  place  of  this  sort  so  well  known  to 
the  whole  English  world  over,  situated  as  it  is  within  that 
Shakespeare  country  from  which  proceeded  those  melodious 
sounds  that  yet  fill  the  world.  It  has  always  been  the 
Mecca  of  the  best  and  noblest  of  literary  pilgrims  from 
America.  Nearly  half  a  century  ago  Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne wrote  for  an  American  magazine  a  series  of  sketches, 
in  one  of  which,  entitled  "  About  Warwick,"  he  tells  us 
how  "  through  the  vista  of  willows  that  droop  on  either 
side  into  the  water  we  behold  the  grey  magnificence  of 
Warwick  Castle  uplifting  itself  among  stately  trees  and 
rearing  its  turrets  above  their  loftiest  branches.  We  can 
scarcely  think  the  scene  real,  so  completely  do  the 
machicolated  towers,  the  long  line  of  battlements,  the 
massive  buttresses,  the  high-windowed  walls,  shape  out  our 
indistinct  ideas  of  the  antique  time." 

After  all  a  castle,  even  so  famous  a  one  as  Warwick,  is 
not  so  interesting  in  itself  as  the  scenes  it  has  witnessed 
and  the  people  who  have  lived  in  it  or  have  visited  it.  The 
history  of  Warwick  Castle,  for  the  last  three  hundred  and 
fifty  years  at  least,  has  been  no  small  part  of  the  history  of 
England.  Personal  and  local  history  in  England  does  not 
so  much  begin  with  the  Reformation  as  it  does  in  other 
countries  ;  but  this  one  thing  is  certain,  that  between  the 
pre-Reformation  world  and  ourselves  there  is  a  great  gulf 
fixed  which  the  historian  has  tried  in  vain  to  bridge.  Not 
that  the  place  before  that  could  have  been  devoid  of  inter- 
est :  no  castle  in  the  stormy  times  of  the  Wars  of  the 
Roses  could  have  enjoyed  the  happiness  of  having  no  his- 


7o 


WARWICK   CASTLE 


tory  ;  and,  surely,  if  any  did,  Warwick  was  not  one  of  them. 
Its  very  position,  situated  in  the  heart  of  England,  must, 
from  the  time  when  the  Great  Alfred's  daughter  built  the 
keep  ("  the  monument  of  the  wisdom  and  energy  of  the 
mighty  Ethelfleda  "),  have  been  such  that,  in  all  the  nu- 
merous brawls  and  butcheries  dignified  by  the  name  of  civil 
war,  the  possession  of  it  must  have  been  a  matter  of  su- 
preme importance.  And  so  it  was  nearly  four  centuries 
before  the  outbreak  of  the  Wars  of  the  Roses  that  William 
the  Conqueror  had  made  Warwick  the  base  of  his  opera- 
tions for  his  campaign  in  the  North.  The  fortress  he  built 
there  has  gone — not  one  stone  left  upon  another,  and  so 
utterly  perished  that  the  very  site  of  it  is  pure  guess-work. 
The  legendary  Guy  and  all  his  feats  may  be  dismissed 
from  any  account  which  makes  any  pretence  to  be  histori- 
cal. There  is  a  curious  account  of  the  garrison  of  War- 
wick Castle  in  the  time  of  Henry  II.,  when  all  his  legit- 
imate sons  were  in  arms  against  him,  and  the  two  illegit- 
imate sons  of  Fair  Rosamond  alone  remained  faithful.  It 
was  occupied  for  the  King;  and  the  sheriff's  account  ren- 
dered for  the  victualling  of  the  place  was  this  :  "  xi.  /;'.  xiii. 
d.  for  20  quarters  of  Bread  Corn ;  xx.  s.  for  20  quarters 
of  Malt ;  c.  s.  for  50  Biefs  salted  up ;  xxx.  s.  for  90 
cheeses  ;  and  xx.  s.  for  salt  then  laid  in  for  the  victualling 
thereof." 

Of  the  importance  of  Warwick  Castle  in  the  Middle 
Ages  we  can  well  form  an  idea  from  Dugdale's  state- 
ment : — 

"  Of  what  regard  it  was  in  those  times  may  be  discerned 


WARWICK   CASTLE  ji 

by  the  King's  precept  to  the  Archbishop  of  York,  for  re- 
quiring good  security  of  Margery,  sister  and  heir  to 
Thomas,  then  Earl  of  Warwick,  that  she  should  not  take 
to  husband  any  person  whatsoever  in  whom  the  said 
King  could  not  repose  trust  as  in  his  own  self:  the  chief 
reason  being  given  in  these  words,  c  Because  she  has  a 
Castle  of  immense  strength,  and  situated  towards  the 
Marshes.' " 

No  mention  of  Warwick  Castle  would  be  complete  if  it 
left  out  the  famous  Earl — "the  King-Maker,"  and  the 
"  Last  of  the  Barons."  Never  was  the  "  Bear  and  Ragged 
Staff"  held  in  such  high  esteem  as  between  1455  and  1470. 
And  when,  a  few  years  after  the  King-Maker's  death, 
the  avaricious  Henry  VII.  annexed  his  various  manors  to 
the  Crown,  he  got  possession  of  over  a  hundred  of  them, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  whole  of  the  Channel  Islands.  A 
contemporary  tells  us  that  "  at  the  Earl's  house  in  London 
six  oxen  were  usually  eaten  at  breakfast,  and  every  tavern 
was  full  of  his  meat,  for  he  that  had  any  acquaintance  in 
his  family  should  have  as  much  sodden — *'.  *.,  boiled — as 
he  could  carry  on  a  long  dagger." 

The  Castle  had  remained  for  a  very  considerable  period 
in  the  possession  of  the  successive  earls.  It  next  passed  to 
the  ill-starred  George,  Duke  of  Clarence,  and  upon  his 
death,  "being  seized  into  the  King's  hands,  it  continued 
in  the  Crown  a  great  while." 

When  the  famous  John  Dudley  became  Earl  of  War- 
wick, the  Castle  was  granted  to  him,  as  well  as  divers  lands 
which  had  belonged  to  former  earls.  Of  his  fate  in  con- 


72  WARWICK   CASTLE 

nection  with  the  unhappy  Lady  Jane  Grey  there  is  no  need 
to  speak  here.  The  Castle  and  all  his  estates,  upon  his 
attainder,  escheated  to  the  Crown.  Thanks  to  the  favour 
with  which  Robert  Dudley,  better  known  as  the  Earl  of 
Leicester,  was  regarded  by  Queen  Elizabeth,  his  brother 
Ambrose  received  from  that  queen  a  grant  of  Warwick 
Castle,  together  with  the  dignities  of  Earl  of  Warwick  and 
Baron  de  1'Isle,  in  1561.  Three  years  later  his  brother 
Robert  became  Earl  of  Leicester. 

There  were  other  subjects  beside  Lord  Burghley  who 
groaned  inwardly  under  "  the  extraordinary  chardg  in 
Enterteynment  of  the  Queen."  Elizabeth  had  more  than 
the  ordinary  passion  of  the  time  for  "  rich  shews,  pleasant 
devices  and  all  manner  of  sports  that  could  be  devised." 
Notwithstanding  the  extent  of  her  various  progresses  east 
and  west  and  north  and  south,  there  seemed  to  be  always 
something  freshly  arranged  for  her  entertainment.  In 
1572  on  her  way  to  Kenilworth,  she  stayed  at  Warwick, 
and  visited  the  Earl  of  Warwick  at  the  Castle  she  had 
granted  him  eleven  years  before.  She  came  to  Warwick 
"on  the  1 2th  day  of  August,  after  dinner,  about  three  of 
the  clock,  with  the  Countess  in  the  same  coach." 

Evelyn,  as  the  author  of  Silva  well  might  do,  did  not 
think  much  of  the  gardens  in  1654.  To  bring  them  to 
perfection  was  reserved  for  that  luckless  of  the  heads  of  the 
Grevilles,  George,  the  second  Baron,  who  "  planned  the 
park  by  his  taste  and  planted  the  trees  with  his  hand." 
The  second  son,  Robert,  who  became  the  fourth  Lord 
Brooke,  was  one  of  the  six  lords  sent  by  the  House  of 


WARWICK   CASTLE  73 

Peers,  together  with  twelve  of  the  members  of  the  House 
of  Commons,  to  present  to  Charles  II.  at  the  Hague,  "  the 
humble  invitation  and  supplication  of  the  Parliament: 
That  His  Majesty  would  be  pleased  to  return  and  take  the 
government  of  the  Kingdom  into  his  own  hands."  He 
was  made  Recorder  of  Warwick,  and  being  a  great  traveller 
added^much  to  the  embellishment  of  the  Castle.  It  was  to 
him  that  the  fitting  up  of  the  state  apartments  is  due,  and 
he  worthily  continued  to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  his  pred- 
ecessors in  the  title.  His  successors  from  one  generation 
to  another  took  pride  above  everything  else  in  the  adorn- 
ment and  beautification  of  their  castle.  In  1746  the 
eighth  Baron  was  created  Earl  Brooke,  and  in  the  last  year 
of  the  reign  of  George  II.  the  Earldom  of  Warwick,  which 
had  been  conferred  in  1618  on  the  family  of  Rich,  becom- 
ing extinct,  devolved  upon  Lord  Brooke.  The  son  of  this 
first  Earl  of  Warwick  was  one  of  the  most  reckless  of  all 
connoisseurs,  and  Warwick  Castle  is  indebted  to  him  for 
many  valuable  gems  which  his  uncle,  Sir  William  Hamil- 
ton, collected.  Many  of  the  finest  specimens  of  artistic 
work  at  Warwick  bear  testimony  to  his  taste,  but  the  en- 
largement and  improvement  of  the  grounds  about  the  Castle 
are  his  special  work,  and  he  expended  over  ^"100,000  in 
beautifying  the  interior  of  his  home. 

The  entrance  to  the  Castle  consists  of  a  plain  embattled 
gateway,  leading  to  a  picturesque  winding  roadway,  cut,  for 
upwards  of  a  hundred  yards,  through  the  solid  rock,  and 
overhung  with  shrubs,  creepers,  and  trees.  This  roadway 
conducts  to  the  outer  court,  where  a  grand  view  of  the 


74  WARWICK  CASTLE 

outer  walls  suddenly  bursts  upon  the  visitor,  the  main 
features  of  which  are  Guy's  Tower  on  the  right,  the  Gate- 
way in  the  middle,  and  Caesar's  Tower  on  the  left. 

Guy's  Tower,  so  named  in  honour  of  the  legendary 
warrior,  was  built  by  the  second  Thomas  de  Beauchamp 
in  the  reign  of  Richard  II.,  being  completed  in  1394.  It 
is  twelve-sided,  thirty  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base,  with 
walls  ten  feet  thick,  and  rises  to  a  height  of  a  hundred  and 
twenty-eight  feet.  This  tower  contains  five  floors,  each 
floor  having  a  groined  roof  and  being  subdivided  into  one 
large  and  two  small  rooms,  the  sides  of  which  are  pierced 
with  numerous  loopholes,  commanding  in  various  direc- 
tions the  curtains  which  the  tower  was  intended  to  protect. 
A  staircase  of  a  hundred  and  thirty-three  steps  leads  to  the 
summit,  which  is  crowned  by  a  machicolated  parapet.  The 
vault  beneath  has  been  constructed  of  great  strength,  ap- 
parently for  the  purpose  of  supporting  on  the  roof  some 
ponderous  and  powerful  engine,  calculated  to  annihilate 
anything  which  could  be  brought  against  it.  The  details 
of  the  Castle  can  be  best  observed  from  this  tower,  and  it 
commands  a  fine  view  of  the  surrounding  country,  extend- 
ing for  many  miles.  The  second-floor  chamber,  now  used 
as  a  muniment  room,  was  the  place  of  confinement  of  the 
Earl  of  Lindsey,  who,  with  his  father,  was  taken  prisoner 
at  the  battle  of  Edge  Hill. 

Caesar's  Tower  was  erected  between  1350  and  1370  by 
the  first  Thomas  de  Beauchamp,  and  it  is  a  marvel  of  con- 
structive skill.  It  is  an  irregular  polygon,  a  hundred  and 
forty-seven  feet  in  height,  containing  four  stories,  each  with 


WARWICK   CASTLE  75 

a  groined  roof,  and  is  crowned  by  a  boldly  projecting 
machicolation.  The  part  facing  outward  forms  three 
segments  of  a  circle,  the  general  construction  being  such  as 
to  constitute  it  a  fortress  of  the  most  formidable  character. 
It  is  built  on  the  solid  rock,  and  was  therefore  impervious  to 
the  miner.  The  loopholes  throughout  are  most  scientific- 
ally contrived,  not  being  cut  in  the  centre  of  the  merlons  in 
each  instance,  but  being  pierced  in  positions  commanding 
the  most  advantageous  situations,  and  being  made  available 
for  the  long  or  crossbow.  The  lower  edges  of  the  loop- 
holes are  also  sloped  at  the  exact  angle  requisite  to  clear  the 
gallery  below.  The  archers  were  securely  protected  by 
wooden  screens,  termed  mantlets,  and  by  leather  curtains, 
as  well  as  by  the  roofs  above  them.  The  sloping  base  of 
the  tower  constituted  another  formidable  medium  for 
launching  missiles  against  the  enemy,  being  so  constructed 
that  a  stone  or  metal  projectile,  launched  from  the  machi- 
colation above,  would  rebound  with  a  point  blank  aim  into 
the  breasts  of  the  attacking  force  beneath. 

The  Gateway  was  constructed  in  the  Fourteenth  Cen- 
tury, and  was  in  ancient  times  approached  by  a  drawbridge, 
which  formerly  spanned  the  moat,  but  is  now  replaced  by  a 
stone  arch.  On  the  inner  side  of  this  is  the  Barbican, 
projecting  some  fifty  feet  from  the  wall,  and  rising  two 
stories  in  height  above  the  archway.  It  is  flanked  by  two 
octagonal  turrets,  loopholed  for  the  purpose  of  defending 
the  bridge  and  its  approaches.  Within  the  drawbridge  is  a 
portcullis,  and  behind  the  portcullis  are  four  holes  overhead, 
through  which  blazing  pitch,  hot  lead,  or  other  scarifying 


y6  WARWICK   CASTLE 

compounds  could  be  poured  on  the  heads  of  the  as- 
sailants. 

The  spacious  Inner  Court  is  nearly  two  acres  in  extent. 
In  front  stands  the  Mound  or  Keep,  studded  with  trees  and 
shrubs,  and  crossed  by  the  fortifications,  in  which  the 
Northern  Tower  forms  a  prominent  object.  On  the  right, 
connected  by  walls  of  enormous  strength,  are  two  incom- 
plete towers,  termed  the  Bear  and  Clarence  Towers,  the 
former  begun  by  Richard  III.,  and  the  latter  probably  by 
his  brother,  George,  Duke  of  Clarence.  On  the  left,  ex- 
tending to  the  Hill  Tower  at  the  base  of  the  Mound,  is 
the  inhabited  part  of  the  Castle,  altered  and  enlarged  at 
various  times  since  it  was  first  built,  but  with  so  much 
skill  as  to  be  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  general  aspect  of 
the  whole. 

A  fortress  is  said  to  have  existed  here  in  Roman  times  ; 
and  Ethelfleda,  daughter  of  Alfred  the  Great,  is  stated  to 
have  erected  a  keep  or  dungeon  on  the  Mound  in  the  year 
915,  and  this  again  is  stated  to  have  been  enlarged  in  the 
time  of  the  Conqueror. 

Warwick  Castle  still  stands  by  itself  amongst  English 
castles.  It  not  only  brings  before  us  the  people  whom  it 
had  witnessed  itself,  from  William  the  Conqueror  down  to 
Queen  Victoria,  but  it  enables  us  to  represent  what  the  ba- 
ronial castles — Kenilworth  and  a  host  of  others,  which  have 
fallen  into  decay— once  were  :  by  it  we  can  reconstruct  their 
halls  and  their  bowers,  their  chapels  and  their  dungeons, 
and  can  reproduce  them  to  ourselves  as  they  were  when 
great  kings  and  dukes  and  lords,  who  have  long  since 


77 

crumbled  into  dust,  filled  them  with  their  sound  and  fury, 
which  now  signifies  nothing :  we  can  see  the  Beauchamps  and 
the  Nevills  and  the  Plantagenets,  and  those  that  went  be- 
fore them  and  those  that  came  after  them,  pass  through  its 
galleries  in  knightly  procession  :  we  can  be  present  there 
with  Queen  Elizabeth  and  Lord  Leicester  when  all  was 
revelry  and  mirth ;  or  with  the  stout  old  Sir  Edmund  Peto, 
in  that  dark  hour  when  he  hung  out  a  cross  with  a  flag 
upon  it  in  defiance  of  the  Papists.  As  we  walk  from  gal- 
lery to  gallery,  and  from  apartment  to  apartment,  we  can 
see,  as  in  some  splendid  and  stately  museum,  everything 
which  has  beautified  and  adorned  the  lives  of  seven  cen- 
turies of  English  nobles.  Over  and  above  all  this,  we  can 
see  in  Warwick  Castle  the  continuity  of  English  life,  ever 
changing  but  yet  ever  the  same ;  and  as  we  view  objects 
which  illustrate  the  arts  and  fashions  and  tastes  and  fancies 
of  a  bygone  world,  we  can  feel  conscious  of  the  debt  we 
owe  to  those  who,  mindful  of  the  responsibility  bequeathed 
to  them,  have  not  been  backward  in  amassing  treasures  to 
be  an  "  everlasting  possession,  not  a  sight  to  be  seen  and 
then  forgotten." 


XHE   ALHAMBRA 

EDMONDO   DE  AMICIS 

WE  arrived  before  a  great  gateway  that  shut  in  the 
street ;  Gongora  said  to  me,  "  Here  we  are  !  "  I 
entered. 

I  found  myself  in  a  great  grove  of  trees  of  immeasurable 
height  inclining  towards  each  other  on  both  sides  of  a  wide 
avenue  that  ascends  the  hill  and  is  lost  in  the  shade  ;  they 
are  so  close  together  that  a  man  can  pass  between  them 
with  difficulty  and  wherever  you  look,  you  can  see  nothing 
but  trunks  so  thickly  set  that  they  seem  to  shut  in  the  road 
like  a  continuous  wall.  The  trees  interlace  their  branches 
above  the  avenue ;  not  a  ray  of  sunlight  can  penetrate  the 
wood ;  the  shade  is  dense,  and  from  every  side  the  rivulets 
murmur  and  the  nightingales  sing.  You  breathe  here  the 
freshness  of  spring. 

"  We  are  already  in  the  Alhambra,"  Gongora  said  to 
me,  "  turn  around  and  you  will  see  the  towers  and  the  em- 
battled walls  of  the  enclosure." 

"  But  where  is  the  palace  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  That  is  a  secret,"  he  answered,  "  let  us  walk  on  at 
random." 

We  advanced  by  an  avenue  parallel  to  the  great  central 
road,  and  one  that  wound  towards  the  summit  of  the  hill. 
The  trees  above  our  heads  formed  a  roof  of  verdure  that 


THE    ALHAMBRA 


79 


hid  the  sky ;  and  the  grass,  the  brushwood  and  the  flowers 
made  on  both  sides  two  charming  espaliers  of  brightness. 

"  Here  is  the  gateway  !  "  cried  Gongora. 

I  turned  around  as  if  I  had  been  pushed,  and  I  saw  a 
few  steps  before  me  a  large  square  tower,  of  a  sombre  red, 
crowned  with  embattlements,  and  its  door  surmounted  by  a 
horseshoe  arch  upon  which  you  saw  sculptured  a  key  and 
a  hand. 

My  guide  told  me  that  it  was  the  principal  entrance  to  the 
Alhambra,  and  that  it  was  called  the  Gate  of  Justice,  be- 
cause the  Arab  Kings  were  accustomed  to  pronounce  their 
sentences  beneath  that  arch.  The  key  means  that  this 
door  is  the  key  to  the  fortress,  and  the  hand  is  the  symbol 
of  the  five  principal  precepts  of  Islam :  Prayer,  Fasting, 
Benevolence,  Holy  War,  and  Pilgrimage  to  Mecca. 

We  passed  under  the  gate,  and  continued  to  ascend  by 
an  embanked  road  :  finally  we  came  to  the  top  of  the  hill, 
in  the  middle  of  an  esplanade  surrounded  by  a  parapet  and 
set  with  bushes  and  flowers.  I  was  standing  before  a 
great  palace  in  the  style  of  the  Renaissance,  half  in 
ruins  and  flanked  by  some  small  and  miserable-looking 
houses. 

We  entered  through  a  little  doorway,  crossed  a  corridor, 
and  found  ourselves  in  a  court. 

We  were  in  the  patio  de  los  Arraynes  (Court  of  the 
Myrtles),  which  is  the  largest  in  the  building,  and  which 
presents  at  once  the  appearance  of  a  court,  a  hall,  and  a 
garden.  A  large  rectangular  basin,  full  of  water,  sur- 
rounded by  a  hedge  of  myrtle,  extends  from  one  side  to  the 


go  THE   ALHAMBRA 

other  of  the  patio,  and  mirrors  the  arches,  the  arabesques, 
and  inscriptions  of  the  walls.  To  the  right  of  the  entrance 
are  two  rows  of  Moorish  arches,  placed  one  upon  the 
other,  and  upheld  by  light  columns ;  and  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  court  rises  a  tower  with  a  door,  through  which 
may  be  seen  the  half-dark  interior  halls  and  the  tiny  twin- 
windows,  and  beyond  the  windows  the  blue  sky  and  the 
peaks  of  the  distant  mountains.  The  walls  are  ornamented 
up  to  a  certain  height  with  splendid  mosaics,  and  from  the 
mosaics  upward  to  the  ceiling  with  arabesques  of  the  most 
delicate  design,  which  seem  to  scintillate  and  change  at 
every  step ;  and  here  and  there  between  the  arabesques  and 
along  the  arches,  Arabic  inscriptions  comprising  salutations, 
sentences,  and  proverbs  wind  about  and  interlace  like 
garlands. 

Near  the  entrance  one  reads  in  Kufic  characters  :  "  Salva- 
tion eternal !  —  Benediction  !  —  Prosperity  !  —  Felicity  !  — 
Praise  be  to  God  for  the  welfare  of  Islam  !  " 

In  another  place  you  see  written :  "  I  seek  my  refuge  in 
the  God  of  the  Dawn."  Elsewhere:  "O  God,  to  Thee 
we  owe  eternal  thanks  and  undying  praise  !  " 

In  other  places  there  are  verses  from  the  Koran,  and  en- 
tire poems  in  praise  of  the  caliphs. 

We  entered  the  tower  called  the  Tower  of  Comares,  or 
vulgarly,  of  the  Ambassadors. 

The  interior  of  the  tower  forms  two  halls ;  the  first  is 
called  the  Hall  of  the  Boat :  some  persons  say  because  it  is 
shaped  like  a  boat ;  others,  because  it  was  called  by  the 
Arabs  Hall  of  the  Baraka,  or  benediction,  a  word  which  the 


THE   ALHAMBRA  8 1 

ignorant  have  corrupted  into  that  of  boat  (barca).  This 
hall  does  not  seem  of  human  workmanship  ;  it  is  nothing 
but  a  stupendous  interlacing  of  embroideries  in  the  form 
of  garlands,  rose-work,  branches,  and  leaves  that  cover  the 
ceiling,  the  arches,  the  walls,  on  all  sides,  and  in  every 
way,  crowded  together,  twisted,  in  net-work,  one  upon 
another,  and  combined  in  such  a  manner  that  they  are  all 
seen  in  a  single  glance  and  present  an  astonishing 
magnificence  and  an  enchanting  grace.  I  went  up  to  one 
of  the  walls,  I  fastened  my  gaze  at  the  beginning  of  an 
arabesque  and  tried  to  follow  its  twistings  and  windings : 
impossible  !  the  eye  loses  itself,  the  mind  becomes  con- 
fused, and  all  the  arabesques  from  the  pavement  to  the 
ceiling  seem  to  move  and  commingle  to  make  you  lose  the 
thread  of  their  inextricable  net-work.  You  may  make  an 
effort  not  to  look  around  you,  concentrate  your  attention 
upon  one  little  place  of  the  wall,  put  your  very  nose  in  it, 
and  trace  the  design  with  your  finger:  it  is  useless;  in  one 
minute  the  patterns  become  involved,  a  veil  spreads  be- 
tween the  wall  and  yourself,  and  your  arm  falls.  The  wall 
seems  to  you  to  be  woven  like  a  textile,  crinkled  like 
brocade,  of  open-work  like  lace,  and  veined  like  a  leaf; 
you  cannot  look  at  it  closely,  you  cannot  fix  the  design  in 
your  mind, — that  would  be  like  counting  the  ants  in  an 
ant-hill. 

After  having  looked  around  me  a  little,  Gongora  pushed 
me  into  the  great  Hall  of  the  Ambassadors,  which  oc- 
cupies the  entire  interior  of  the  tower,  for  the  Hall  of 
the  Barca  in  reality  belongs  to  a  little  building,  which  al- 


82  THE    ALHAMBRA 

though  joined  to  the  tower,  is  not  a  part  of  it.  The  Hall 
is  square,  very  spacious,  and  lighted  by  nine  large  arched 
windows,  in  the  form  of  doors,  which  present  almost  the 
aspect  of  alcoves,  so  thick  are  the  walls;  and  each  one 
of  them  is  divided  in  two  by  a  little  column  of  marble  that 
supports  two  elegant  little  arches,  surmounted  in  their  turn 
by  two  little  arched  windows.  The  walls  are  covered  with 
mosaics  and  arabesques  of  an  indescribable  delicacy  and 
variety  of  form,  and  innumerable  inscriptions  that  are 
spread  out  like  broad,  embroidered  ribbons  over  the  arches 
of  the  windows,  in  the  corners,  upon  the  friezes,  and  around 
the  niches  where  they  placed  vases  filled  with  flowers  and 
perfumed  waters.  The  ceiling,  which  is  very  high,  is  com- 
posed of  pieces  of  cedar  wood,  white,  gilt,  and  blue, 
united  in  the  form  of  circles,  stars,  and  crowns ;  it  forms 
a  number  of  little  domes,  cells,  and  tiny  arched  windows 
from  which  a  soft  light  falls  ;  and  from  the  cornice  that 
joins  the  ceiling  to  the  walls  hang  bits  of  stucco  cut  in 
facets  and  worked  like  stalactites  and  bunches  of  flowers. 
The  throne  stood  in  the  centre  before  the  window  and 
opposite  the  door  of  entrance.  From  the  windows  on  this 
side,  you  enjoy  a  magnificent  view  of  the  valley  of  the 
Darro ;  so  deep  and  silent  that  it  seems  as  if  it  must  be 
fascinated  by  the  majestic  Alhambra ;  from  the  windows  of 
the  two  other  sides  you  see  the  walls  of  the  enclosure  and 
the  towers  of  the  fortress ;  and  from  the  side  of  the 
entrance,  in  the  distance,  the  light  arches  of  the  Court  of 
Myrtles,  and  the  waters  of  the  basin  reflecting  the  azure 
of  the  sky. 


THE  ALHAMBRA  83 

We  left  the  tower  with  rapid  steps,  crossed  the  Court  of 
Myrtles,  and  came  in  front  of  a  little  door  opposite  the 
entrance.  We  went  about  fifteen  steps  and  stopped.  We 
were  in  the  Court  of  the  Lions.  If  at  this  moment  I  had 
been  forced  to  leave  just  as  I  had  entered,  I  do  not  know 
if  I  could  have  described  what  I  had  seen.  A  forest  of 
columns,  a  labyrinth  of  arches  and  embroideries,  an  inde- 
finable elegance,  an  unimaginable  delicacy,  a  prodigious 
richness,  and  I  don't  know  what  that  was  aerial,  trans- 
parent, and  undulating,  it  was  like  a  great  pavilion  of  lace ; 
the  appearance  of  a  building  that  would  fall  by  a  breath,  a 
variety  of  lights,  perspectives,  mysterious  shadows,  con- 
fusion, a  capricious  disorder  of  little  things,  the  majesty  of  a 
little  palace,  the  gaiety  of  a  kiosk,  an  amorous  grace,  an 
extravagance,  a  delight,  a  phantasy  of  a  young  and  passion- 
ate maiden,  an  angel's  dream,  a  madness,  a  thing  without  a 
name ;  such  is  the  first  effect  of  the  Court  of  Lions. 

This  is  a  court  larger  than  a  great  ball-room,  rectangular 
in  form,  with  walls  as  high  as  one  of  the  little  Andalusian 
houses  of  one  story.  A  light  portico  runs  around  it  sup- 
ported by  graceful  little  columns  of  white  marble,  grouped 
in  symmetrical  disorder,  by  twos  and  threes  almost  without 
a  base  so  that  they  seem  to  be  starting  from  the  earth  like 
the  trunks  of  trees,  and  adorned  with  varied  capitals,  tall 
and  delicate,  in  the  form  of  little  pillars  upon  which  curve 
tiny  arches  of  the  most  graceful  form.  These  arches  seem 
not  leaning  upon,  but  suspended  over  the  columns :  one 
might  call  them  curtains  arranged  upon  the  columns  like 
ribbons  or  floating  garlands.  From  the  centre  of  the 


84 


THE  ALHAMBRA 


shortest  sides,  there  advance  two  groups  of  columns  that 
form  two  kinds  of  little  square  temples,  each  of  nine 
arches,  surmounted  by  a  little  cupola  of  many  colours. 
The  walls  of  these  little  temples  and  the  outside  wall  of  the 
portico  are  a  veritable  lace-work  in  stucco ;  they  are  orna- 
mented, embroidered,  bordered,  cut  and  perforated  from 
one  side  to  the  other,  transparent  as  a  web,  and  chang- 
ing in  design  at  your  approach  ;  here,  flowers  are  nestling 
in  the  arabesques ;  there,  stars ;  and  farther  away,  bucklers, 
squares,  and  polygonal  figures  covered  with  ornaments  of 
an  infinite  delicacy.  All  this  ends  in  jagged  points,  in 
festoons,  in  ribbons  fluttering  around  the  arches,  in  species 
of  stalactites,  fringes,  pear-shaped  drops  and  acorns,  that 
seem  to  undulate  with  the  least  breath  of  air.  Long 
Arabic  inscriptions  run  the  entire  length  of  the  four 
walls,  above  the  arches,  upon  the  capitals,  and  upon  the 
walls  of  the  little  temples.  In  the  centre  of  the  court  there 
rises  a  great  marble  basin,  upheld  by  twelve  lions,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  paved  canal,  from  which  gush  four  other 
small  canals,  that,  describing  a  cross  between  the  four  sides 
of  the  court,  cross  the  portico,  dart  into  the  neighbouring 
halls  and  unite  with  the  other  conduits  cutting  through  the 
entire  edifice.  Behind  the  two  little  temples,  and  in  the 
middle  of  the  two  other  sides,  there  open  suites  of  halls 
with  immense  open  doorways,  that  allow  you  to  see  the 
dark  background  upon  which  the  little  white  columns 
gleam  as  if  they  stood  before  the  mouth  of  a  grotto.  At 
every  step  one  takes  into  the  court,  this  forest  of  columns 
seems  to  move  and  disarrange  itself  to  arrange  itself  in  a 


THE  ALHAMBRA  85 

new  way ;  behind  a  column  that  seems  to  stand  alone,  two, 
three,  or  sometimes  a  file  of  them,  will  show  themselves  ; 
others  will  disappear,  others  will  approach  each  other,  and 
others  will  separate;  in  looking  into  the  depths  of  one  of 
these  halls,  you  see  everything  change  :  the  arches  on  the 
opposite  side  seem  to  be  far  away;  the  columns  seem  out 
of  place,  the  little  temples  assume  another  form  ;  you  see 
through  the  very  walls,  you  discover  new  arches  and  new 
columns,  here  in  the  bright  sunlight,  there  in  the  shadow, 
elsewhere  half  illuminated  by  the  soft  light  that  passes 
through  the  perforations  of  the  carving,  and  farther  away 
they  are  lost  in  the  darkness.  Here  is  a  continual  chang- 
ing of  perspectives,  distances,  deceptions,  mysteries,  and 
optical  illusions  made  by  the  architecture  and  the  sunlight 
and  your  own  over-excited  and  burning  imagination. 

u  What  must  this  patio  have  been,"  said  Gongora, 
"  when  the  interior  walls  of  the  portico  were  glistening 
with  mosaics,  the  capitals  of  the  columns  gleaming  with 
gold,  the  ceilings  and  vaults  painted  in  a  thousand  colours, 
the  doorways  closed  by  hangings  of  silk,  and  the  niches 
filled  with  flowers ;  and  when  beneath  the  temples  and  in 
the  halls  perfumed  waters  flowed,  and  when  from  the  nos- 
trils of  the  lions  dashed  forth  twelve  jets  of  water  that  fell 
back  into  the  basin,  and  when  the  air  was  impregnated  with 
the  most  delicious  perfumes  of  Arabia!  You  should  come 
here  at  sunrise ;  you  should  also  come  here  at  sunset  and 
at  moonlight  to  see  the  marvels  of  colour,  light  and  shade  ! 
It  would  turn  your  head  !  " 

We  went  to  see  the   halls.     On  the  eastern  side  there  is 


86  ,THE  ALHAMBRA 

one  called  the  Hall  of  Justice,  which  you  reach  by  passing 
under  three  large  arches,  each  one  taking  the  place  of  a 
door  opening  into  the  court.  It  is  a  long  and  narrow  hall, 
of  rich  and  bold  architecture,  the  walls  of  which  are 
covered  with  very  intricate  arabesques  and  precious  mosaics, 
with  points,  bunches,  and  protuberances  of  stucco  hanging 
from  the  arches,  which  crowd  together,  drop,  spring  from, 
press  upon,  and  are  superimposed  upon  each  other,  as  if 
they  disputed  the  very  space,  and  showing  even  now  traces 
of  ancient  colours  which  must  have  given  to  this  ceiling 
the  semblance  of  suspended  fruits  and  flowers. 

On  the  northern  side  of  the  court  there  is  another  hall 
called  de  las  Hermanas  (the  Two  Sisters)  from  two  large  slabs 
of  marble  that  are  found  in  the  pavement.  It  is  the  most 
gracious  hall  of  the  Alhambra.  It  is  small,  square,  and 
domed  with  one  of  those  vaults  in  the  form  of  a  cupola 
which  the  Spaniards  call  half-oranges,  sustained  by  little 
columns  and  arches  arranged  in  a  circle,  all  cut  to  resemble 
a  grotto  of  stalactites  with  an  infinity  of  points  and  holes, 
coloured  and  gilded  and  so  light  that  they  seem  to  the  eye 
as  if  hanging  in  the  air :  you  would  think  that  they  would 
tremble  like  a  curtain,  at  a  touch,  or  evaporate  like  a  cloud, 
or  vanish  like  a  lot  of  soap-bubbles.  The  walls  of  stucco, 
like  those  of  the  other  halls,  and  covered  with  arabesques, 
of  an  incredible  delicacy,  are  among  the  most  astonishing 
productions  of  human  fancy  and  patience. 

We  returned  to  the  Court  of  the  Myrtles,  and  visited  the 
halls  on  the  other  side  of  the  Tower  of  Comares,  most  of 
them  half  ruined,  others  transformed,  some  of  them  half 


THE  ALHAMBRA  87 

bare,  without  either  pavement  or  roof,  but  all  worthy  of 
being  seen  because  of  the  memories  they  awaken,  and  also 
in  order  to  understand  the  construction  of  the  building.  The 
old  mosque  was  converted  into  a  chapel  by  Charles  V.  and 
a  large  Arabian  hall  into  an  oratory ;  here  and  there  you 
noticed  the  debris  of  arabesques  and  ceilings  of  carved 
cedar;  the  galleries,  the  courts,  and  the  vestibules  seemed 
the  remains  of  a  palace  devoured  by  fire. 

At  this  point  I  truly  thought  that  there  was  nothing  more 
to  be  seen,  and  I  committed  the  fresh  imprudence  of  saying 
so  to  Gongora.  At  this  blow  he  could  no  longer  contain 
himself,  and,  leading  me  into  the  vestibule  of  the  Court  of 
Myrtles,  before  a  plan  of  the  building  that  hung  upon  the 
wall,  he  said : 

"  Look  around  you,  and  you  will  see  that  all  the  halls, 
all  the  courts,  and  all  the  towers  that  we  have  visited  up  to 
now,  only  occupy  the  twentieth  part  of  the  space  enclosed 
by  the  walls  of  the  Alhambra ;  you  see  that  we  have  not 
yet  visited  the  remains  of  three  other  mosques,  the  ruins 
of  the  Hall  of  the  Cadi,  the  Water-Tower,  the  Tower  of 
the  Infantas,  the  Tower  of  the  Prisoner,  the  Tower  of 
Candil,  the  Tower  of  the  Pico,  the  Tower  of  the  Poign- 
ards,  the  Tower  of  the  Siete  Melos,  the  Tower  of  the 
Captain,  the  Tower  of  the  Sorcerer,  the  Tower  of 
the  Heads,  the  Tower  of  the  Weapons,  the  Tower 
of  the  Hidalgos,  the  Tower  of  the  Chickens,  the 
Tower  of  the  Dice,  the  Tower  of  Homage,  the  Tower  of 
the  Vela,  the  Tower  of  the  Powder,  the  ruins  of  the  house 
of  Mondejar,  the  military  quarters,  the  Iron  Gate,  the  in- 


88  THE  ALHAMBRA 

terior  walls,  the  cisterns,  and  the  promenades  ;  for  you  must 
know  that  the  Alhambra  is  not  solely  a  palace,  but  a  town, 
and  that  it  would  take  a  lifetime  to  search  for  arabesques, 
to  read  inscriptions  and  to  discover  each  day  some  new 
view  of  the  hills  and  mountains,  falling  into  an  ecstasy 
once  at  least  during  the  twenty-four  hours !  " 
And  I  thought  I  had  seen  the  Alhambra. 


LAMBETH  PALACE 

JOHN  RICHARD  GREEN 

A  LITTLE  higher  up  the  river,  but  almost  opposite 
to  the  huge  mass  of  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  lies 
a  broken,  irregular  pile  of  buildings,  at  whose  angle,  look- 
ing out  over  the  Thames,  is  one  grey  weather-beaten  tower. 
The  broken  pile  is  the  archiepiscopal  Palace  of  Lambeth ; 
the  grey,  weather-beaten  building  is  its  Lollards'  Tower. 
From  this  tower  the  mansion  itself  stretches  in  a  varied 
line ;  chapel  and  guard-room,  and  gallery,  and  the  stately 
buildings  of  the  new  house  looking  out  on  the  terrace  and 
garden ;  while  the  Great  Hall,  in  which  the  library  has 
now  found  a  home,  is  the  low  picturesque  building  which 
reaches  southward  along  the  river  to  the  gate. 

The  story  of  each  of  these  spots  will  interweave  itself 
with  the  thread  of  our  narrative  as  we  proceed ;  but  I  would 
warn  my  readers  at  the  outset  that  I  do  not  propose  to 
trace  the  history  of  Lambeth  in  itself,  or  to  attempt  any 
architectural  or  picturesque  description  of  the  place.  What 
I  attempt  is  simply  to  mark,  in  incident  after  incident 
which  has  occurred  within  its  walls,  the  relation  of  the 
house  to  the  primates  whom  it  has  sheltered  for  seven  hun- 
dred years,  and  through  them  to  the  literary,  ecclesiastical, 
the  political  history  of  the  realm. 

Nothing  illustrates  the  last  of  these  relations  better  than 


9° 


LAMBETH  PALACE 


the  site  of  the  house  itself.  It  is  doubtful  whether  we 
can  date  the  residence  of  the  archbishops  of  Canterbury  at 
Lambeth,  which  was  then  a  manor-house  of  the  see  of 
Rochester,  earlier  than  the  reign  of  Eadward  the  Confessor. 
But  there  was  a  significance  in  the  choice  of  the  spot,  as 
there  was  a  significance  in  the  date  at  which  the  choice 
was  made.  So  long  as  the  political  head  of  the  English 
people  ruled,  like  Alfred,  or  /Ethelstan,  or  Eadgar,  from 
Winchester,  the  spiritual  head  of  the  English  people  was 
content  to  rule  from  Canterbury.  It  was  when  the  piety 
of  the  Confessor  and  the  political  prescience  of  his  suc- 
cessors brought  the  kings  finally  to  Westminster  that  the 
archbishops  were  permanently  drawn  to  their  suffragan's 
manor-house  at  Lambeth.  The  Norman  rule  gave  a  fresh 
meaning  to  their  position.  In  the  new  course  of  national 
history  which  opened  with  the  Conquest,  the  Church  was 
called  to  play  a  part  greater  than  she  had  ever  known 
before.  Hitherto  the  archbishop  had  been  simply  the  head 
of  the  ecclesiastical  order — a  representative  of  the  moral 
and  spiritual  forces  on  which  the  government  was  based. 
The  Conquest,  the  cessation  of  the  great  Witenagemotes 
in  which  the  nation,  however  imperfectly,  had  till  then 
found  a  voice,  turned  him  into  a  tribune  of  the  people. 

Foreigner  though  he  might  be,  it  was  the  primate's  part 
to  speak  for  the  conquered  race  the  words  it  could  no 
longer  utter.  He  was,  in  fact,  the  permanent  leader  (to 
borrow  a  modern  phrase)  of  a  constitutional  opposition ; 
and,  in  addition  to  the  older  religious  forces  which  he 
wielded,  he  wielded  a  popular  and  democratic  force  which 


LAMBETH  PALACE 


91 


held  the  new  king  and  the  new  baronage  in  check.  It 
was  he  who  received  from  the  sovereign  whom  he  crowned 
the  solemn  oath  that  he  would  rule  not  by  his  own  will, 
but  according  to  the  customs,  or,  as  we  should  say  now, 
the  traditional  constitution,  of  the  realm.  It  was  his  to 
call  on  the  people  to  declare  whether  they  chose  him  for 
their  king;  to  receive  the  thundered  "Ay,  ay,"  of  the 
crowd ;  to  place  the  priestly  unction  on  shoulder  and 
breast,  the  royal  crown  on  brow.  To  watch  over  the 
observance  and  order  into  religious  duties  ;  to  uphold  the 
custom  and  law  of  the  realm  against  personal  tyranny ;  to 
guard,  amidst  the  darkness  and  brutality  of  the  age,  those 
interests  of  religion,  of  morality,  of  intellectual  life,  which 
as  yet  lay  peacefully  together  beneath  the  wing  of  the 
Church — this  was  the  political  office  of  the  primate  in  the 
new  order  which  the  Conquest  created ;  and  it  was  this 
office  which  expressed  itself  in  the  site  of  the  house  that 
fronted  the  king's  house  over  Thames. 

From  the  days  of  Archbishop  Anselm,  therefore,  to  the 
days  of  Stephen  Langton,  Lambeth  only  fronted  West- 
minster as  the  archbishop  fronted  the  king.  Synod  met 
over  against  council ;  the  clerical  court  of  the  one  ruler 
rivaled  in  splendour,  in  actual  influence,  the  baronial 
court  of  the  other.  For  more  than  a  century  of  our 
history  the  great  powers  which  together  were  to  make  up 
the  England  of  the  future  lay  marshalled  over  against  each 
other  on  either  side  the  water. 

With  the  union  of  the  English  people,  and  the  sudden 
arising  of  English  freedom,  which  followed  the  Great 


g2  LAMBETH  PALACE 

Charter,  this  peculiar  attitude  of  the  archbishops  passed 
necessarily  away.  When  the  people  itself  spoke  again,  its 
voice  was  heard,  not  in  the  hall  of  Lambeth,  but  in  the 
Chapter-house  which  gave  a  home  to  the  House  of 
Commons  in  its  earlier  sessions  at  Westminster.  From 
the  day  of  Stephen  Langton  the  nation  has  towered  higher 
and  higher  above  its  mere  ecclesiastical  organization,  till 
the  one  stands  dwarfed  beside  the  other  as  Lambeth  now 
stands  dwarfed  before  the  mass  of  the  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment. Nor  was  the  religious  change  less  than  the 
political.  In  the  Church  as  in  the  State,  the  archbishops 
suddenly  fell  into  the  rear.  From  the  days  of  the  first 
English  Parliament  to  the  days  of  the  Reformation,  they 
not  only  ceased  to  be  representatives  of  the  moral  and 
religious  forces  of  the  nation,  but  stand  actually  opposed 
to  them.  Nowhere  is  this  better  brought  out  than  in 
their  house  beside  the  Thames.  The  political  history  of 
Lambeth  lies  spread  over  the  whole  of  its  site,  from  the 
gate-way  of  Morton  to  the  garden  where  we  shall  see 
Cranmer  musing  on  the  fate  of  Anne  Boleyn.  Its  ecclesi- 
astical interest,  on  the  other  hand,  is  concentrated  in  a 
single  spot.  We  must  ask  our  readers,  therefore,  to 
follow  us  beneath  the  groining  of  the  Gate-house  into  the 
quiet  little  court  that  lies  on  the  river-side  of  the  hall. 
Passing  over  its  trim  grass-plot  to  a  doorway  at  the  angle 
of  Lollards'  Tower,  and  mounting  a  few  steps,  they  will 
find  themselves  in  a  square  antechamber,  paved  roughly 
with  tiles,  and  with  a  single  small  window  looking  out 
towards  the  Thames.  The  chamber  is  at  the  base  of 


LAMBETH  PALACE 


93 


Lollards'  Tower ;  in  the  centre  stands  a  huge  oaken 
pillar,  to  which  the  room  owes  its  name  of  the  "  Post- 
room,  "  and  to  which  somewhat  mythical  tradition  asserts 
Lollards  to  have  been  tied  when  they  were  "  examined  " 
by  the  whip.  On  its  western  side  a  doorway  of  the 
purest  early  English  work  leads  us  directly  into  the 
palace  chapel. 

It  is  strange  to  stand  at  a  single  step  in  the  very  heart 
of  the  ecclesiastical  life  of  so  many  ages,  within  walls  be- 
neath which  the  men  in  whose  hands  the  fortunes  of 
English  religion  have  been  placed  from  the  age  of  the 
Great  Charter  till  to-day  have  come  and  gone ;  to  see  the 
light  falling  through  the  tall  windows  with  their  marble 
shafts  on  the  spot  where  Wyclif  fronted  Sudbury,  on  the 
lowly  tomb  of  Parker,  on  the  stately  screen-work  of  Laud, 
on  the  altar  where  the  last  sad  communion  of  Sancroft 
originated  the  Non-jurors.  It  is  strange  to  note  the  very 
characteristics  of  the  building  itself,  marred  as  it  is  by  mod- 
ern restoration,  and  to  feel  how  simply  its  stern,  unadorned 
beauty,  the  beauty  of  Salisbury  and  of  Lincoln,  expressed 
the  very  tone  of  the  Church  that  finds  its  centre  there. 

And  hardly  less  strange  it  is  to  recall  the  odd,  roistering 
figure  of  the  primate,  to  whom,  if  tradition  be  true,  it  owes 
this  beauty.  Boniface  of  Savoy  was  the  youngest  of  three 
brothers  out  of  whom  their  niece,  Eleanor,  the  queen  of 
Henry  the  Third,  was  striving  to  build  up  a  foreign  party 
in  the  realm.  Her  uncle  Amadeus  was  richly  enfeoffed 
with  English  lands ;  the  Savoy  Palace  in  the  Strand  still 
recalls  the  sentiment  and  the  magnificence  of  her  uncle 


94 


LAMBETH  PALACE 


Peter.  For  this  third  and  younger  uncle  she  grasped  at 
the  highest  post  in  the  state  save  the  crown  itself.  "The 
handsome  archbishop,"  as  his  knights  loved  to  call  him, 
was  not  merely  a  foreigner  as  Lanfranc  and  Anselm  had 
been  foreigners — strange  in  manner  or  in  speech  to  the 
flock  whom  they  ruled — he  was  foreign  in  the  worst  sense : 
strange  to  their  freedom,  their  sense  of  law,  their  reverence 
for  piety.  His  first  visit  set  everything  on  fire.  He  re- 
treated to  Lyons  to  hold  a  commission  in  the  Pope's  body- 
guard, but  even  Innocent  was  soon  weary  of  his  tyranny. 
When  the  threat  of  sequestration  recalled  him  after  four 
years  of  absence  to  his  see,  his  hatred  of  England,  his 
purpose  soon  to  withdraw  again  to  his  own  sunny  South, 
were  seen  in  his  refusal  to  furnish  Lambeth.  Certainly  he 
went  the  wrong  way  to  stay  here.  The  young  primate 
brought  with  him  Savoyard  fashions,  strange  enough  to 
English  folk.  His  armed  retainers,  foreigners  to  a  man, 
plundered  the  City  markets.  His  own  archiepiscopal  fist 
felled  to  the  ground  a  prior  who  opposed  his  visitation.  It 
was  the  prior  of  St.  Bartholomew's  by  Smithfield ;  and 
London,  on  the  king's  refusal  to  grant  redress,  took  the 
matter  into  her  own  hands.  The  City  bells  swung  out, 
and  a  noisy  crowd  of  citizens  were  soon  swarming  beneath 
the  walls  of  the  palace,  shouting  threats  of  vengeance. 

For  shouts  Boniface  cared  little.  In  the  midst  of  the 
tumult  he  caused  the  sentences  of  excommunication  which 
he  had  fulminated  to  be  legally  executed  in  the  chapel  of 
his  house.  But,  bravado-like,  this  soon  died  before  the 
universal  resentment,  and  "  the  handsome  archbishop  "  fled 


LAMBETH  PALACE 


95 


again  to  Lyons.  How  helpless  the  successor  of  Augustine 
really  was,  was  shown  by  a  daring  outrage  perpetrated  in 
his  absence.  Master  Eustace,  his  official,  had  thrown  into 
prison  the  prior  of  St.  Thomas's  Hospital  for  some  con- 
tempt of  court;  and  the  prior's  diocesan,  the  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  a  prelate  as  foreign  and  lawless  as  Boniface 
himself,  took  up  the  injury  as  his  own.  A  party  of  his 
knights  appeared  before  the  house  at  Lambeth,  tore  the 
gates  from  their  hinges,  set  Master  Eustace  on  horseback, 
and  carried  him  off  to  the  episcopal  prison  at  Farnham. 
At  last  Boniface  bowed  to  submission,  surrendered  the 
points  at  issue,  recalled  his  excommunication,  and  was  suf- 
fered to  return.  He  had  learned  his  lesson  well  enough  to 
remain  from  that  time  a  quiet,  inactive  man,  with  a  dash 
of  Continental  frugality  and  wit  about  him.  Whether  he 
built  the  chapel  or  not,  he  would  probably  have  said  of  it 
as  he  said  of  the  Great  Hall  at  Canterbury,  "  My  prede- 
cessors built,  and  I  discharge  the  debt  for  their  building. 
It  seems  to  me  that  the  true  builder  is  the  man  that  pays 
the  bill." 

From  the  moment  when  Wyclif  stood  in  Lambeth 
Chapel  the  Church  sunk,  ecclesiastically  as  well  as  politic- 
ally, into  non-existence.  It  survived  merely  as  a  vast  land- 
owner; while  its  primates,  after  a  short  effort  to  resume 
their  older  position  as  real  heads  of  their  order,  dwindled 
into  ministers  and  tools  of  the  crown.  The  gate-tower 
of  the  house,  the  grand  mass  of  brick-work,  whose  dark- 
red  tones  are  (or,  alas  !  were,  till  a  year  or  two  since)  so 
exquisitely  brought  out  by  the  grey  stone  of  its  angles  and 


96 


LAMBETH  PALACE 


the  mullions  of  its  broad  arch-window,  recalls  an  age — 
that  of  its  builder,  Archbishop  Morton — when  Lambeth, 
though  the  residence  of  the  first  minister  of  the  crown, 
had  really  lost  all  hold  on  the  nobler  elements  of  political 
life.  It  was  raised  from  this  degradation  by  the  efforts  of 
a  primate  to  whose  merits  justice  has  hardly  as  yet  been 
done.  First  in  date  among  the  genuine  portraits  of  the 
Archbishops  of  Canterbury  which  hang  round  the  walls  of 
the  Guard-room  at  Lambeth  is  the  portrait  of  Archbishop 
Warham.  The  plain,  homely  old  man's  face  still  looks 
down  on  us,  line  for  line,  as  the  "seeing  eye"  of  Holbein 
gazed  on  it  three  centuries  ago.  "  I  instance  this  picture," 
says  Mr.  Wornum,  in  his  life  of  the  painter,  "  as  an  illus- 
tration that  Holbein  had  the  power  of  seeing  what  he 
looked  on,  and  of  perfectly  transferring  to  his  picture 
what  he  saw."  Memorable  in  the  annals  of  art  as  the  first 
of  that  historic  series  which  brings  home  to  us,  as  no  age 
has  ever  been  brought  home  to  eyes  of  after-time,  the  age 
of  the  English  Reformation,  it  is  even  more  memorable  as 
marking  the  close  of  the  great  intellectual  movement  which 
the  Reformation  swept  away. 

With  the  Reformation,  in  its  nobler  and  purer  aspects, 
Lambeth,  as  we  have  said,  had  little  to  do.  Bucer, 
Peter  Martyr,  and  Alasco  gathered  there  for  a  moment 
round  Cranmer;  but  it  was  simply  as  a  resting-place,  on 
their  way  to  Cambridge,  to  Oxford,  and  to  Austin  Friars. 
Only  one  of  the  symbols  of  the  new  Protestantism  has 
any  connection  with  it ;  the  Prayer-book  was  drawn  up  in 
the  peaceful  seclusion  of  Oxford.  The  party  conferences, 


LAMBETH  PALACE 


97 


the  rival  martyrdoms  of  the  jarring  creeds,  took  place  else- 
where. The  memories  of  Cranmer  which  linger  round 
Lambeth  are  simply  memories  of  degradation  ;  and  that  the 
deepest  degradation  of  all,  the  degradation  of  those  solemn 
influences  which  the  primacy  embodies  to  the  sanction  of 
political  infamy.  It  is  fair,  indeed,  to  remember  the  bitter- 
ness of  Cranmer's  suffering.  Impassive  as  he  seemed,  with 
a  face  that  never  changed,  and  sleep  seldom  known  to  be 
broken,  men  saw  little  of  the  inner  anguish  with  which 
the  tool  of  Henry's  injustice  bent  before  that  overmastering 
will. 

None  of  the  great  theological  impulses  of  this  age  or 
the  last,  it  is  sometimes  urged,  came  out  of  Lambeth. 
Little  of  the  theological  bitterness,  of  the  controversial 
narrowness  of  this  age  or  the  last,  it  may  fairly  be  an- 
swered, has  ever  entered  its  gates.  Of  Lambeth  we  may 
say  what  Matthew  Arnold  says  of  Oxford,  that  many  as 
are  its  faults,  it  has  never  surrendered  itself  to  ecclesiastical 
Philistines.  In  the  calm,  genial  silence  of  its  courts,  its 
library,  its  galleries,  in  the  presence  of  its  venerable  past, 
the  virulence,  the  petty  strife,  the  tumult  of  religious  fanat- 
icism finds  itself  hushed.  Among  the  storms  of  the  Wes- 
leyan  revival,  of  the  Evangelical  revival,  of  the  Puseyite 
revival,  the  voice  of  Lambeth  has  ever  pleaded  for  a  truth, 
simpler,  larger,  more  human  than  theirs.  Amidst  the  deaf- 
ening clamour  of  Tractarian  and  Anti-Tractarian  dispu- 
tants, both  sides  united  in  condemning  the  silence  of  Lam- 
beth. Yet  the  one  word  that  came  from  Lambeth  will  still 
speak  to  men's  hearts  when  all  their  noisy  disputations  are 


98 


LAMBETH  PALACE 


forgotten.  "  How,"  a  prelate,  whose  nearest  relative  had 
joined  the  Church  of  Rome,  asked  Archbishop  Howley, 
"  how  shall  I  treat  my  brother  ?  "  "  As  a  brother,"  was 
the  archbishop's  reply. 


T 


CHATEAU  DE  BLOIS 

JULES    LOISELEUR 
HE    castle    of  Blois    would   be    without    a    rival    in 


France  if  Fontainebleau  did  not  exist.  The  first 
time  we  enter  that  interior  court,  the  four  sides  of  which 
each  tell  the  history  of  a  great  period  of  architecture,  we 
are  dazzled  by  the  throng  of  memories  and  ideas  that  start 
from  these  four  great  pages.  The  obedient  stone,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  epoch,  has  recorded  the  suspicious  pre- 
cautions, the  paternal  confidence,  the  chivalric  enthusiasm 
and  the  majestic  isolation  of  the  masters  of  this  royal  dwell- 
ing. Pure  feudalism  is  written  in  the  mighty  walls  of  the 
fortress  of  the  Counts  of  Blois.  The  transitional  style, 
one  of  the  most  important  examples  of  which  is  offered  by 
this  castle  of  Louis  XII.,  marks  the  change  from  the  feudal 
system  to  the  unitary  monarchy  prepared  by  Louis  XI. 
This  youthful  monarchy,  already  absolute  though  tempered 
by  the  great  aristocratic  individualities,  already  glitters  and 
triumphs  in  this  brilliant  facade  built  by  the  young  victor  of 
Marignan.  By  the  side  of  this  splendid  facade,  like  a 
severe  master  beside  a  turbulent  pupil,  the  severe  profile  of 
the  castle,  built  by  Mansart,  suggests  the  absolute  and  un- 
counterpoised  monarchy  of  Louis  XVI. ; — unity  without  di- 
versity, force  without  grace. 

Thus   the   unknown  architect   who  cut  the  walls  of  the 


I00  CHATEAU  DE  BLOIS 

mighty  fortress  out  of  the  rock  for  Thibault  le  Tricheur ; 
and  the  artists,  native  in  all  probability  and  therefore  un- 
known, who  drew  the  arabesques  of  Francis  the  First's 
stairway  ;  and  Joconde,  the  architect  of  Louis  XII.  •,  and 
Mansart,  the  architect  of  Gaston  of  Orleans;  and  all 
those  bold  stone-workers,  unknown  to  themselves,  doubt- 
less, in  those  four  facades  have  shown  the  four  chief  phases 
of  royal  authority.  "  Monuments  are  the  true  writings  of 
the  nations." 

Above  the  city  of  Blois,  upon  a  triangular  plateau, 
whence  the  view  embraces  the  vast  panorama  of  the  left 
bank  of  the  Loire,  formerly  stood  a  fortress,  the  origin  of 
which  is  lost  in  the  obscurity  of  ages.  It  was  one1  of  those 
redoubtable  holds  in  which  the  great  feudal  barons  watched 
for  their  prey  and  kept  what  they  captured.  It  was  one  of 
the  most  formidable  of  all,  and  it  is  stated  that  it  was  never 
reduced,  nor  even  besieged.  Three  narrow  ascents,  shad- 
owed on  either  side  by  high  walls,  gave  access  to  it.  A 
double  ring  of  fortifications  was  in  front  of  the  donjon, 
which,  in  case  of  siege,  was  the  last  resort  of  the  master  of 
this  formidable  abode.  The  first  enclosure,  called  the 
lower  court,  or  fore-court,  to-day  forms  a  courtyard  of  con- 
siderable size,  at  the  end  of  which  rises  the  front  built  by 
Louis  XII.  Ruined  towers  with  thick  walls  still  testify  of 
the  precautions  taken  to  defend  this  first  circuit. 

Immense  offices,  a  church  the  foundation  of  which  dates 
back  from  the  Eleventh  Century,  and  which  must  not  be 
confounded  with  the  chapel  that  is  to  be  seen  in  the  present 
castle-yard,  and  lodgings  for  the  canons  and  servants  of 


CHATEAU  DE  BLOIS  IOI 

this  church  formed  a  vast  circle  of  buildings  around  this  first 
courtyard  where  also  were  to  be  seen  the  habitations  of 
the  count's  principal  officers.  There,  in  succession,  after- 
wards arose  the  house  from  the  window  of  which  Georges 
d'Amboise,.  counsellor  to  Louis  XII.,  conversed  with  his 
master  i  the  house  of  the  Due  d'Epernon,  who  favoured 
the  flight  of  Marie  de'Medicis;  and  that  other  mansion 
where,  on  June  I3th,  1626,  Louis  XIII.  caused  the  arrest  of 
the  Prince  de  Vendome,  accused  of  being  concerned  in  the 
Chalais  conspiracy. 

The  castle  built  by  Louis  XII.  now  stands  on  the  spot 
where  the  second  enclosure  began.  Access  to  the  latter 
was  gained  by  a  drawbridge  thrown  across  a  moat  between 
two  strong  towers.  Close  to  this  bridge  was  a  narrow  pas- 
sage communicating  with  the  covered  way  called  the  Vault 
of  the  Castle,  which  has  lately  disappeared  and  which  led 
to  the  Place  des  Jesuites.  It  would  be  rash  to  pretend  ex- 
actly to  reconstruct  the  physiognomy  which  this  second 
enclosure  presented  in  the  Twelfth  or  Thirteenth  Cen- 
tury. The  buildings  of  the  background,  vast  edifices 
raised  by  the  Counts  of  Blois,  of  the  house  of  Chatillon, 
have  completely  disappeared  and  are  only  visible  to-day  in 
the  drawings  of  de  Cerceau.  It  is  on  the  site  of  these 
buildings  that  Gaston  d'Orleans  raised,  about  1635,  the 
cold  and  regular  building  that  bears  his  name. 

It  was  between  the  thick  walls  of  this  hall  and  the  no 
less  thick  walls  of  the  Tour  des  Moulins  that  Francis  the 
First  wedged  his  chateau  in.  If  we  leave  the  Hall  of  the 
Estates,  deferring  till  a  little  later  a  visit  to  the  elegant  edi- 


102  CHATEAU  DE  BLOIS 

fice  of  that  prince,  and  go  immediately  to  the  tower  that 
terminates  it  and  connects  the  chateau  of  Francis  the  First 
with  that  of  Gaston  of  Orleans,  we  shall  have  traversed  all 
that  now  remains  standing  of  the  ancient  strong  castle  of 
the  Counts  of  Blois. 

The  chateau  built  by  Francis  the  First,  by  the  abundance 
and  variety  of  its  ornamentation,  crushes  the  simple  abode 
of  Louis  XII.  Beside  this  strong  and  severe  building  it 
produces  the  effect  of  a  young  bride  covered  with  laces  be- 
side the  rich  but  serious  and  durable  robe  of  her  grand- 
mother. 

It  was  Louis  XII.,  however,  who  laid  the  foundations  of 
Francis  the  First's  wing.  But  these  foundations  had 
scarcely  risen  above  the  ground  when  he  died.  The  plan 
adopted  at  that  time  only  required  one  facade, — that  of  the 
courtyard.  Francis  the  First  had  another  building  joined 
to  the  original  one.  When  the  addition  was  made,  the 
strong  partition-wall  that  terminated  the  first  building  and 
to-day  separates  the  two  sides  of  the  edifice  was  already  far 
advanced,  so  that  it  was  necessary  to  pierce  it  with  door- 
ways that  now  allow  us  to  appreciate  its  thickness.  We 
are  told  that  three  years  sufficed  for  the  young  victor  of 
Marignan  to  carry  this  enterprise  to  the  point  at  which  we 
see  it  to-day.  The  king's  plan  was  to  add  two  other  wings 
to  the  castle  that  would  thus  have  formed  a  perfect  square. 
But  Francis  the  First  lacked  the  money  necessary  for  the 
execution  of  this  colossal  plan,  as  Louis  XIV.  did  after- 
wards for  Versailles.  The  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold  and 
the  Italian  war  had  exhausted  his  resources.  During  the 


CHATEAU  DE  BLOIS 


103 


years  that  followed,  the  many  catastrophes  that  over- 
whelmed France — the  loss  of  Milan,  the  death  of  Bayard, 
the  battle  of  Pavia,  and  finally  the  captivity  in  Madrid, — de- 
stroyed Francis's  passion  for  building, — that  love  of  the 
square  and  trowel  that  was  common  to  him  and  all  the 
great  sovereigns  of  our  country.  When  he  returned  from 
captivity,  in  1526,  with  his  head  full  of  fairy-like  Arab  and 
Moorish  constructions,  he  was  already  dreaming  of  Cham- 
bord,  and  neglected  Blois,  in  which,  however,  had  been 
gathered  the  money  for  his  ransom.  The  grand  project, 
conceived  in  1516,  was  therefore  abandoned,  and  the  un- 
finished castle  of  Blois  remained  as  we  see  it  to-day, — a 
curious  and  incoherent  assemblage  of  monuments  of  divers 
styles  and  periods. 

We  have  heard  nothing  about  the  chateau  built  by  Gas- 
ton  of  Orleans,  not  that  that  edifice  is  without  merit,  but 
its  cold  regularity  disagreeably  contrasts  with  the  Renais- 
sance architecture,  so  sparkling  and  prodigal  of  caprice.  It 
was  for  the  purpose  of  completing  that  correct  and  weari- 
some monument  that  Gaston  wanted  to  destroy  what  re- 
mains of  Francis  the  First's  wing.  He  would  gladly  have 
said,  like  Louis  XIV. :  "  Remove  those  grotesque  piles." 
For  it  is  a  singular  fact  that  at  that  time  good  taste 
joined  in  the  same  condemnation  the  Middle  Ages, 
whose  wonders  were  considered  barbarous,  and  the  Ren- 
aissance which  had  led  the  arts  back  to  the  purer  forms 
of  antiquity.  With  bare  stones  and  straight  lines 
throughout,  yet  there  was  something  of  the  majestic 
gravity  of  Louis  XIV.  in  the  work  of  his  uncle  Gaston. 


104  CHATEAU  DE  BLOIS 

In  order  that  the  straight  line  may  produce  great  effects  it 
must  be  developed  over  the  immense  surface  of  a  Louvre  or 
a  Versailles.  At  Blois  it  is  only  insignificant.  This  chateau 
would  serve  for  anything, — a  museum,  a  library,  or  a  tri- 
bunal, just  as  well  as  the  abode  of  a  prince.  In  1823,  it 
had  a  narrow  escape  of  becoming  a  prefecture.  They  were 
going  to  pull  down  what  they  called  the  shanties  of  Louis 
XII.  and  substitute  a  fine  iron  grille  for  them.  Francis  the 
First's  wing  found  grace  in  the  eyes  of  the  destroyers  on 
condition  of  sheltering  the  household  :  the  kitchens  had  to 
be  placed  somewhere  !  It  is  true  that  this  happened  in 
1823,  only  a  few  years  after  the  Empire. 

The  work  of  a  period  of  transition,  when  tranquillity  was 
succeeding  agitation,  this  palace  of  the  chief  of  the  Fronde 
does  not  possess  the  serene  power  and  self-confidence  that 
came  afterwards,  but  we  already  feel  something  in  it  of  the 
imposing  unity  and  the  majestic  ennui  of  the  great  reign. 


FUTTEHPORE-SIKRI 

LOUIS   ROUSSELET 

THE  ruins  of  Futtehpore,  the  Versailles  of  the  great 
Akbar,  cover  the  summit  of  a  hill  twelve  miles 
from  Bhurtpore.  On  leaving  that  town,  we  travelled 
across  a  succession  of  monotonous  plains  alternately  com- 
posed of  marshes  and  rocky  deserts.  The  horizon  was 
unbounded,  except  on  the  east,  where  lay  the  hill  of 
Futtehpore,  the  fantastic  outline  of  which  caught  the  rays 
of  the  rising  sun.  Even  from  afar,  the  eye  is  struck  by  the 
number  and  size  of  the  buildings,  which  a  royal  caprice  has 
erected  in  the  midst  of  this  desert :  one  would  take  it  for  a 
large  and  populous  city.  Those  long  lines  of  palaces  with 
their  gilded  domes  and  pinnacles  could  never  have  been 
built  to  be  so  soon  abandoned  to  solitude.  The  scene  be- 
comes grander  the  nearer  you  approach.  On  arriving  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill,  the  road  passes  under  a  majestic  gate- 
way, beyond  which  are  the  long,  silent  streets ;  the  palaces 
still  standing  perfect  and  entire  amidst  the  ruined  dwellings 
of  the  people ;  with  the  fountains  and  the  magnificent 
gardens,  wherein  the  pomegranates  and  the  jessamine  have 
grown  for  centuries.  The  whole  scene  is  of  imposing 
grandeur;  and  the  hand  of  time  has  fallen  so  lightly  upon 
it  that  one  might  take  it  for  a  town  very  recently  deserted 
by  its  inhabitants,  or  one  of  the  enchanted  cities  of  Sinbad 
the  Sailor. 


106  FUTTEHPORE-SIKRI 

The  blgarri^ '  whom  we  had  taken  with  us  from  the 
village  of  Sikri,  conducted  us  to  a  bungalow  which  is  main- 
tained by  the  English  Government  for  the  accommodation  of 
travellers.  This  bungalow,  which  was  once  the  ancient 
kutcbery*  of  Akbar,  is  built  of  red  sandstone,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  beautiful  verandah  supported  by  columns.  It 
is  situated  on  the  northern  extremity  of  the  plateau,  and 
overlooks  the  town  on  one  side  and  the  front  of  the 
zenanah  on  the  other.  An  old  Sepoy  is  placed  in  charge 
of  the  edifice,  which  contains  two  comfortably  furnished 
apartments. 

The  foundations  of  Futtehpore, "  the  Town  of  Victory," 
were  laid  by  Akbar  in  1571,  and  the  ramparts,  city,  and 
palace  were  all  completed  with  extraordinary  rapidity. 
Akbar  was  attracted  to  this  desert  by  the  sanctity  of  a 
Mussulman  Anchorite,  Selim  Shisti,  who  inhabited  one  of 
the  caverns  on  the  hill.  Attracted  by  the  situation,  he 
built  himself  a  palace,  and  finally,  being  unwilling  to  give 
up  the  society  of  the  holy  man,  he  resolved  to  establish 
there  the  capital  of  his  empire.  In  a  few  years  this  desert 
spot  was  transformed  into  a  large  and  populous  city  ;  but 
the  death  of  Selim  soon  put  an  end  to  this  prosperity. 
Akbar  then  saw  the  folly  of  trying  to  place  his  capital  in 
the  midst  of  these  sterile  plains,  unapproached  by  any  of 
the  great  rivers,  more  especially  as  he  possessed  the  unusually 
favourable  situation  of  Agra.  His  resolution  was  promptly 
taken.  In  1584,  he  abandoned  Futtehpore  with  all  its 

1  A  guide  for  travellers,  furnished  by  the  villages. 
*  Court  of  the  magistrate  attached  to  the  palace. 


FUTTEHPORE-SIKRI 


107 


grandeur,  and  carried  off  the  whole  population  to  people  his 
new  capital  of  Agra.  The  evacuation  was  complete  ;  none 
of  the  successors  of  Akbar  cared  to  carry  out  his  foolish 
project,  and  very  soon  the  only  inhabitants  of  Futtehpore 
were  wild  animals  and  a  few  anchorites.  One  is  almost 
tempted  to  think  that  Akbar  built  Futtehpore  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  giving  posterity  some  idea  of  his  greatness  in 
leaving  this  monument  of  his  capricious  fancy. 

The  fame  of  Selim  still  attracts  thousands  of  pilgrims  to 
his  tomb,  where  they  assemble  at  certain  seasons  of  the 
year ;  and,  to  supply  the  wants  of  these  devotees,  two  vil- 
lages have  sprung  up  on  the  site  of  the  deserted  town,  one 
called  Futtehpore,  and  the  other  Sikri ;  and  it  is  by  this 
double  appellation  of  Futtehpore-Sikri  that  the  ruins  are 
generally  known.  Apart  from  their  beauty,  which  all  must 
admire,  they  are  of  special  interest  to  the  archaeologist  as 
being  the  work  of  a  single  individual,  and  therefore  a  per- 
fect specimen  of  the  style  of  architecture  of  his  epoch. 
From  their  marvellous  state  of  preservation,  you  can  trace, 
step  by  step,  the  mode  of  life  of  the  great  Akbar,  and  can 
form  a  just  idea  of  Indian  manners  and  customs  in  the 
Sixteenth  Century.  Everything  still  breathes  of  the  mag- 
nificence of  that  Eastern  Court  the  fame  of  which  was 
carried  to  Europe  by  contemporary  travellers,  whose  tales 
were  looked  upon  as  fables,  and  the  wealth  and  splendour 
of  which  excited  later  the  avarice  and  cupidity  of  the 
Western  nations. 

The  tomb  of  Selim,  the  imperial  palace,  and  some  of 
the  dwellings  of  the  Mogul  grandees  are  almost  entire. 


I0g  FUTTEHPORE-SIKRI 

They  form  a  compact  group,  one  mile  in  length,  which  oc- 
cupies the  summit  of  a  hill  180  feet  high.  This  hill  fur- 
nished the  whole  of  the  material  of  which  they  are  built, 
which  is  a  fine  sandstone,  varying  from  purple  to  rose 
colour.  The  stone  has  been  left  unornamented  through- 
out; but  the  architects  have  avoided  the  monotony  of  the 
colour  by  artistically  arranging  its  various  tints.  The  mass 
is  now  softened  by  time ;  and  one  of  its  chief  beauties  is 
this  mellow  colouring,  which  blends  ground  and  building  in 
one,  making  the  latter  appear  as  though  carved  out  of  the 
peaks  of  the  mountain. 

The  imperial  palace  lies  to  the  east  of  the  tomb.  It  is  a 
vast  collection  of  separate  buildings  connected  by  galleries 
and  courtyards,  and  covering  an  area  at  least  equal  to  that 
occupied  by  the  Louve  and  the  Tuilcries. 

The  first  building  you  come  to  on  leaving  the  tomb  used 
to  contain  the  private  apartments  of  the  emperor.  It  now 
goes  by  the  name  of  tapili^  or  guard-house,  from  the  fact  of 
its  being  inhabited  by  the  handful  of  soldiers  who  are  em- 
ployed to  keep  off  marauders  from  the  ruins.  The  palace 
is  built  with  great  simplicity,  its  exterior  being  nothing  but 
a  blank  wall,  with  a  small  court  in  its  centre,  into  which 
the  galleries  on  the  different  stories  open.  On  one  side  is 
a  colonnade,  profusely  ornamented  in  the  Hindoo  style ; 
this  was  the  verandah  of  the  apartment  of  Akbar's  favourite 
wife,  and  the  mother  of  Jehanghir:  and  at  the  end  of  an 
open  space  which  extends  in  front  of  the  palace  is  the 
kutchery,  now  converted  into  a  bungalow  for  travellers. 

A   ruined  gallery  leads    from   the   tapili  to  the  Imperial 


FUTTEHPORE-SIKRI 

zenanah,  which  is  surrounded  by  a  high  wall.  Each 
princess  was  allotted  a  separate  palace  in  this  enclosure, 
with  its  own  gardens,  etc.,  constructed  according  to  her 
own  taste  and  wishes.  The  first  of  these  was  the  palace 
of  the  Queen  Mary,  a  Portuguese  lady  whom  Akbar  had 
espoused ;  in  the  apartments  of  which  are  numerous  fres- 
coes, amongst  others  one  representing  the  Annunciation  of 
the  Virgin  Mary.  It  is  a  matter  of  surprise  to  find  a 
Mussulman  prince,  in  the  Sixteenth  Century,  with  such 
tolerant  views  as  to  allow  in  his  palace  a  thing  so  opposed 
to  the  principles  of  his  religion;  but  it  does  not  astonish 
one  in  such  an  enlightened  man  as  the  great  Akbar. 
Wishing  to  put  an  end  forever  to  the  subjects  of  discord 
which  divided  the  nations  of  his  empire,  he  devised  the 
plan  of  creating  a  new  religion  which  should  unite  the 
sympathies  of  all.  For  this  purpose  he  assembled  a  gen- 
eral council  which  was  attended  by  the  priests  of  all  the 
religious  denominations  of  India,  and  even  by  some  of 
the  Christian  missionaries  from  Goa ;  and  to  them  he  sub- 
mitted his  project :  but  nothing  resulted  from  the  discus- 
sion. In  spite  of  this  the  emperor  compiled  a  voluminous 
work  on  the  different  religions  of  the  world,  viz.,  Chris- 
tianity, Judaism,  Islamism,  and  the  various  Hindoo  sects, 
in  which  he  displayed  very  liberal  and  enlightened  views. 

From  the  palace  of  Queen  Mary  you  enter  a  court,  sur- 
rounded by  apartments,  and  almost  entirely  occupied  by  a 
basin  of  vast  dimensions,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  an 
island  built  on  a  terrace,  and  reached  by  four  stone  foot- 
bridges. At  the  extremity  of  this  court,  there  is  a 


j  10  FUTTEHPORE-SIKRI 

pavilion,  the  walls  and  pillars  of  which  are  enriched 
with  fine  sculptures  ;  its  rooms  overlooking  on  one  side 
the  ornamental  tank,  and  on  the  other  a  garden  still 
ornamented  with  shrubberies  and  fine  trees.  This  was 
the  abode  of  one  of  Akbar's  wives,  the  Roumi  Sultani, 
daughter  of  one  of  the  Sultans  of  Constantinople. 

On  a  high  terrace,  to  the  right  of  this  palace,  is  the  em- 
peror's sleeping-apartment ;  the  ground-floor  containing 
a  spacious  hall  with  sculptured  columns,  which  is  half 
filled  up  with  rubbish. 

On  the  west  of  the  zenanah,  rises  a  fanciful  construction, 
called  Panch  Mahal — "  the  Five  Palaces," — which  consists 
of  four  terraces,  supported  by  galleries  rising  one  above 
another,  and  gradually  diminishing  in  size  towards  the  top, 
where  they  terminate  in  a  dome  sustained  by  four  columns. 
It  resembles  the  half  of  a  pyramid,  and  has  a  very  curious 
effect.  The  thirty-five  pillars  which  support  the  second 
terrace  are  all  different,  comprising  almost  every  style  and 
some  very  remarkable  specimens  of  original  architecture. 
It  is  a  valuable  architectural  collection.  There  has  been 
much  discussion  as  to  the  design  of  the  building,  since  the 
open  galleries  could  not  possibly  have  been  intended  for 
habitation.  Its  position  against  the  walls  of  the  zenanah, 
the  interior  of  which  it  overlooks  and  communicates  with, 
leads  to  the  supposition  that  it  was  assigned  to  the 
eunuchs;  but  in  any  case  it  was  a  fanciful  idea  of  the 
architect.  In  the  little  court  which  surrounds  the  Panch 
Mahal  are  some  very  curious  detached  buildings  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  servants  of  the  harem.  The  archi- 


FUTTEHPORE-SIKRI 

tect  evidently  wished  to  give  them  an  appearance  most  be- 
fitting their  use ;  and,  as  there  was  no  wood  at  his  disposal, 
he  minutely  copied  in  stone  those  light  constructions  which 
serve  in  the  palaces  of  India  as  a  shelter  for  the  lower 
servants.  The  roof,  formed  of  slabs  of  stone,  is  carved  to 
imitate  thatch,  and  is  supported  by  the  same  network  of 
beams  which  would  be  used  for  a  lighter  material  than  sand- 
stone. In  a  word,  they  are  sheds  built  of  sculptured  stone. 

After  passing  through  the  galleries  of  the  Panch  Mahal, 
you  come  out  upon  the  principal  court  of  the  palace, 
called  the  Court  of  the  Pucheesee ;  on  one  side  of  which 
are  the  walls  of  the  zenanah,  and  on  the  other  the  apart- 
ments of  the  ministers  and  the  audience-chambers. 

Pucheesee  is  a  game  of  great  antiquity,  which  the  In- 
dians have  always  been  passionately  fond  of;  and  it  is 
played  with  pawns  on  chess-boards  greatly  resembling  those 
used  in  Europe.  There  are  four  players,  with  four  pawns 
apiece ;  and  the  moves  are  regulated  by  throwing  the  dice, 
the  object  being  to  get  your  four  pawns  into  the  centre  of 
the  board.  The  game  of  pucheesee  was  played  by  Akbar 
in  a  truly  regal  manner ;  the  court  itself,  divided  into  red 
and  white  squares,  being  the  board,  and  an  enormous  stone, 
raised  on  four  feet,  representing  the  central  point.  It  was 
here  that  Akbar  and  his  courtiers  played  this  game ;  sixteen 
young  slaves  from  the  harem,  wearing  the  players'  colours, 
themselves  represented  the  pieces,  and  moved  to  the  squares 
according  to  the  throw  of  the  dice.  It  is  said  that  the  em- 
peror took  such  a  fancy  to  playing  the  game  on  this  grand 
scale  that  he  had  a  court  for  pucheesee  constructed  in  all 


H2  FUTTEHPORE-SIKRI 

his  palaces ;  and  traces  of  such  are  still  visible  at  Agra l  and 
Allahabad. 

To  the  north  of  this  court  and  on  the  same  side  as  the 
Panch  Mahal  is  a  palace,  built  with  great  simplicity,  and  in 
such  a  good  state  of  preservation  that  you  might  mistake  it 
for  a  modern  building.  One  wing  is  a  perfect  labyrinth  of 
corridors  and  passages,  in  which  the  ladies  of  the  Court 
amused  themselves  with  their  favourite  games  of  "  aukh- 
matchorli,"  or  blind-man's-buff,  and  hide-and-seek ;  and 
before  it  rises  a  kiosk  of  Hindoo  architecture,  called  the 
Gooroo-ka-Mundil,  "  Temple  of  the  Mendicant."  The 
emperor,  in  order  to  show  his  regard  for  the  religion  of  the 
majority  of  his  subjects,  entertained  at  his  Court  a  Gooroo, 
or  religious  mendicant  of  the  Salva  sect,  and  even  had  this 
temple  built  for  him  and  his  co-religionists. 

A  little  farther  on  and  facing  the  zenanah  is  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  buildings  of  Futtehpore,  consisting  of  a 

1 "  The  following  account  of  Akbar's  Pachisi-board  is  from  an  old  Agra 
periodical : — The  game  is  usually  played  by  four  ]>ersons,  each  of  whom 
is  supplied  with  four  wooden  or  ivory  cones,  which  are  called  «  gots,'  and 
are  of  different  colours  for  distinction.  Victory  consists  in  getting  these 
four  pieces  safely  through  all  the  squares  of  each  rectangle  into  the  vacant 
place  in  the  centre, — the  difficulty  being  that  the  adversaries  take  up  in 
the  same  way  as  pieces  are  taken  at  backgammon.  Moving  is  regulated 
by  throwing  « cowries,'  whose  apertures  falling  uppermost  or  not,  affect 
the  amount  of  the  throw  by  certain  fixed  rules.  But  on  this  Titanic 
board  of  Akbar's,  wooden  or  ivory  « gots '  would  be  lost  altogether.  Six- 
teen girls,  therefore,  dressed  distinctively — say  four  in  red,  four  in  blue,  four 
in  white,  four  in  yellow — were  trotted  up  and  down  the  squares,  taken  up 
by  an  adversary,  and  put  back  at  the  beginning  again  ;  and  at  last,  after 
many  difficulties,  four  of  the  same  colour  would  find  themselves  gliding 
into  their  dopattas  together  in  the  middle  space,  and  the  game  was  won." 
— Bholanauth  Chunder. 


FUTTEHPORE-SIKRI 

graceful  pavilion  of  one  story,  surmounted  by  four  light 
cupolas.  This  is  the  Dewani-Kbas,  or  Palace  of  the 
Council  of  State.  The  simplicity  of  its  outline,  its  square 
windows  and  handsome  balcony,  remind  one  of  our  modern 
buildings.  It  is,  however,  quite  in  accordance  with  the 
character  of  Akbar,  who,  as  well  in  architecture  as  in 
religion  and  government,  never  copied  his  predecessors. 
The  interior  of  the  Dewani-Khas  is  a  large  hall  the  whole 
height  of  the  edifice,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  an  enor- 
mous column  of  red  sandstone,  which  terminates  at  some 
distance  from  the  ceiling  in  a  large  capital  magnificently 
sculptured.  This  capital  forms  a  platform,  encircled  by  a 
light  balustrade,  from  which  diverge  four  stone  bridges, 
leading  to  four  niches  in  the  corners  of  the  building  ;  and  a 
staircase  hidden  in  the  wall  leads  to  a  secret  corridor, 
which  communicates  with  the  niche.  It.  is  one  of  the 
strangest  fancies  of  the  architect  of  Futtehpore. 

On  the  occasion  of  a  council  being  assembled,  the 
emperor  took  his  place  on  the  platform,  his  ministers 
occupying  the  niches ;  while  the  ambassadors  and  other 
personages  who  were  called  into  their  presence  remained  in 
the  hall  at  the  foot  of  the  column,  and  were  unable  to 
judge  of  the  impression  which  their  communication  pro- 
duced on  the  council. 

A  long  gallery,  partly  in  ruins,  leads  from  the  Dewani- 
Khas  to  the  Dewani-Am,  or  Palace  of  the  Public  Audi- 
ences. It  is  a  small  building,  one  side  of  which  overlooks 
the  Court  of  the  Pucheesee,  and  the  other  a  large  court 
surrounded  by  colonnades. 


FUTTEHPORE-SIKRI 

The  chronicler  Aboul  Fazel  says  that  at  certain  hours 
the  people  were  admitted  into  this  court.  After  the 
council  the  emperor  repaired  to  the  Dewan'i-Am,  where, 
after  having  put  on  his  robes  of  state,  he  seated  himself  on 
a  tribune  overlooking  the  court.  Here  he  remained  for 
some  time,  inquiring  into  and  redressing  the  grievances  of 
the  people,  and  receiving  the  strangers  who  flocked  to  his 
court.  According  to  tradition,  it  was  here  that  he  received 
the  Jesuits  of  Goa,  who  brought  him  the  leaves  and  seeds 
of  tobacco  ;  and  it  was  at  Futtehpore  that  Hakim  Aboul 
Futteh  Ghilani,  one  of  Akbar's  physicians,  is  supposed  to 
have  invented  the  hookah,  the  pipe  of  India. 

It  would  take  too  long  to  describe  every  part  of  this 
vast  palace  in  detail,  for,  besides  what  I  have  already 
noticed,  there  are  the  baths,  the  mint,  the  barracks,  and 
numerous  other  buildings,  all  in  ruins. 


CAERNAVON  CASTLE 

WILLIAM  HOWITT 

THE  castles  of  Caernavon,  Beaumaris,  and  Con  way, 
all  on  this  north-west  coast  of  Wales,  are  monu- 
ments of  the  subjection  of  the  Principality  by  Edward  I. 
Other  castles  on  this  coast  he  took  and  strengthened,  for 
instance  those  of  Flint  and  Rhuddlan,  as  yokes  on  the 
necks  of  the  North  Welsh ;  these  three  he  built  expressly 
for  that  purpose,  and,  though  all  now  more  or  less  in 
ruin,  they  remain  splendid  evidences  of  his  power,  and  of 
the  architectural  taste  of  the  age.  We  have  no  finer 
specimens  of  castellated  buildings  than  in  the  fortresses  of 
Caernavon  and  Con  way,  and  what  remains  of  the  exten- 
sive castle  of  Beaumaris  shows  what  it  once  was.  Even 
the  Welsh,  who  do  not  forget  the  object  of  their  erection, 
yet  regard  them  with  pride.  Edward  I.,  a  warrior  and 
statesman  of  the  first  rank,  cherished,  as  the  great  purpose 
of  his  life,  the  reduction  of  the  whole  of  the  magnificent 
island  of  Great  Britain  into  one  compact  and  noble  king- 
dom. This  could  not  be  done  without  invading  the 
country  and  constitutions  of  Wales  and  Scotland,  which 
had  as  much  right  to  maintain  their  own  independence, 
their  own  laws  and  customs  as  England  had.  But  warriors 
by  nature  and  possession  think  little  of  such  rights,  and 
readily  persuade  themselves  that  the  project  which  aggran- 


Il6  CAERNAVON    CASTLE 

dizes  their  own  country  sanctifies  the  most  flagrant  usur- 
pations, and  renders  innocent  all  the  bloodshed  and  the 
crimes  which  irresistibly  attend  such  enterprises.  At  the 
present  day,  the  general  sense  of  both  England  and  Scot- 
land, if  not  of  Wales,  would  refuse  to  pronounce  on 
Edward  I.  any  other  verdict  than  that  of  a  great  benefactor 
to  his  nation  for  what  he  did,  and  even  for  what  he 
attempted  yet  failed  in,  towards  the  consolidation  of  Great 
Britain  under  one  crown. 

Whilst,  however,  he  endeavored  to  mollify  the  spirit  of  the 
Welsh  by  the  extension  to  them  of  civil,  social,  and  com- 
mercial advantages,  he  did  not  trust  by  any  means  to  these, 
but  planned  the  erection  of  a  chain  of  strong  fortresses 
which  should  command  the  north  as  completely  as  the 
south  was  commanded  by  the  same  means.  And  thus 
arose,  with  others,  the  three  princely  strongholds  of  Con- 
way,  Beaumaris,  and  Caernavon. 

The  Castle  of  Conway  seems  to  have  been  commenced  a 
couple  of  years  later  than  Caernavon  Castle, — Caernavon 
being  begun  immediately  on  the  defeat  and  death  of 
Llewellyn,  that  is,  in  1282,  or  in  the  spring  of  1283. 
Conway  was  not  commenced  till  the  following  year,  1284, 
when,  finding  that  these  two  castles  were  not  sufficient  to 
keep  the  Welsh  in  check,  Edward  erected  the  Castle  of 
Beaumaris  in  1295.  There  is  a  great  resemblance  in  the 
style  of  the  two  castles  of  Conway  and  Beaumaris — they 
have  round  towers ;  whilst  Caernavon  has  octagonal,  hex- 
agonal, and  pentagonal  ones. 

The  Castle  of  Caernavon,  which  is  the  one  now  engag- 


CAERNAVON    CASTLE 


"7 


ing  our  attention,  differs  greatly  from  these  other  two ;  and 
if  not  more  striking  in  appearance  than  that  of  Conway, — 
than  which  Pennant  says  "one  more  beautiful  never 
arose," — it  is  equal  in  grandeur,  and  has,  in  truth,  a  royal 
and  more  stately  air.  Its  situation  is  very  fine;  for, 
though  it  stands  in  the  not  very  splendid  town  of  Caerna- 
von,  it  is  placed  on  the  shore  of  the  Menai  Straits ;  and, 
looked  down  upon  from  a  rocky  eminence  called  Fort  Hill, 
a  good  view  is  obtained  of  it  and  the  town,  of  Menai 
Straits,  the  opposite  shore  of  Anglesea,  with  the  distant 
summits  of  the  Holyhead  and  Parys  hills,  the  blue  peaks  of 
the  Eiflridge,  in  the  promontory  of  Lleyn,  the  group  of 
mountains  surrounding  Snowdon,  and  on  a  clear  day  the 
far  off  heights  of  Wicklow  in  Ireland.  The  architect  em- 
ployed by  Edward  I.,  in  its  erection,  was  Henry  Ellerton, 
or  de  Elreton  ;  and,  according  to  tradition,  many  of  the 
materials  were  brought  from  Segontium,  or  the  old  Caer- 
navon,  and  much  of  the  limestone  of  which  it  is  built  came 
from  Twr-Celyn,  in  Anglesea ;  and  of  the  gritstone  from 
Vaenol,  in  the  county  of  Caernavon;  the  Menai  facilita- 
ting the  carriage  from  both  places. 

The  foundations  of  this  castle  are  surrounded  on  three 
sides  by  water.  It  is  bounded  on  one  side  by  the  Menai 
Straits,  on  another  by  the  estuary  of  the  Seoint,  the  river 
which  runs  hither  from  the  Lake  of  Llanberis.  As  you 
approach  the  castle,  its  walls  and  towers  have  an  air  of 
lightness,  which  deceives  you  completely  as  to  its  strength, 
for  these  walls  are  immensely  thick  and  strong.  The  door- 
ways in  the  gateway  towers  and  the  windows  are  more 


Mg  CAERNAVON    CASTLE 

lofty  and  graceful  than  the  doors  and  windows  generally  in 
castles  of  that  age.  The  walls  enclose  an  area  of  about 
three  acres,  and  are  themselves  from  seven  to  nine  feet 
thick.  They  have  within  them  each  a  gallery,  with  slips 
for  the  discharge  of  arrows,  and  are  flanked  by  thirteen 
towers,  all  angular,  but  differing  in  the  number  of  their 
angles.  The  very  massive  pentagonal  tower,  called  the 
Eagle  Tower,  guards  the  south  of  the  Seoint,  and  is  so 
called  from  a  now  shapeless  figure  of  that  bird,  said  to  have 
been  brought  from  the  ruins  of  the  neighbouring  Roman 
station  of  Segontium,  but  probably  placed  there  simply  as 
being  one  of  Edward  I.'s  crests.  This  majestic  tower  has 
three  turrets,  and  its  battlements  display  a  mutilated  series 
of  armour  heads  of  the  time  of  Edward  II.  This  tower  is 
the  only  one  of  which  the  stair-case  remains  perfect,  and 
by  158  stone  steps  you  may  ascend  to  the  summit,  and 
obtain  a  splendid  view  thence  over  the  straits,  the  town, 
and  the  surrounding  country.  In  the  lower  part  of  this 
tower  is  shown  a  small,  dark  room,  measuring  twelve  feet 
by  eight  feet,  in  which  Edward  II.  was  born.  That  un- 
fortunate prince  was  most  probably  born  in  the  castle  ;  but 
it  has  been  endeavoured  to  be  shown  that  it  could  not  pos- 
sibly be  in  this  tower,  as  it  would  appear  not  to  have  been 
built  for  some  years  afterwards,  and,  indeed,  only  to  have 
been  finished  by  Edward  II.  after  he  became  king  of 
England.  The  Rev.  C.  H.  Hartshorne,  of  Cogenhoe,  in 
Northamptonshire,  asserted  at  the  annual  meeting  of  the 
Cambrian  Archaeological  Society,  held  in  Caernavon  in 
September,  1848,  that  this  castle,  instead  of  being  built,  as 


CAERNAVON     CASTLE 

Pennant  and  others  represent,  in  about  two  years,  was  not 
completed  in  less  than  thirty-eight  years — that  it  was  be- 
gun in  1284,  and  only  completed  in  1322. 

As  .Edward  first  entered  the  town  of  Caernavon  on  the 
ist  of  April,  1284,  and  his  son  was  born  on  the  25th  of  the 
same  month,  twenty-four  days  only  are  left  for  the  build- 
ing of  the  Eagle  Tower,  which  would  be  work,  not  for 
English  or  Welsh  builders,  but  for  the  Afrits  of  the  Arabian 
Nights,  and  would  seem  to  put  an  end  to  the  whole  tradi- 
tion of  Edward  of  Caernavon  having  been  born  in  the  room 
assigned  him  by  popular  affection.  And  yet  tradition  so 
often  maintains  itself  against  statistics,  and  against  theories 
started  long  afterwards,  that  we  should  not  be  surprised  if, 
after  all,  the  first  Prince  of  Wales  was  actually  born  in 
that  little,  dismal  room.  In  the  then  disturbed  condition  of 
North  Wales  ;  amid  the  intense  indignation  of  the  Welsh  at 
the  murder  of  their  beloved  prince,  and  the  barbarous  exe- 
cution of  his  brother  David ;  under  the  well-known  spirit 
of  revolt  and  revenge  which  was  fiercely  fermenting  in  the 
minds  of  the  natives,  it  is  not  likely  that  Edward  would 
risk  the  safety  of  his  wife  and  his  infant  in  the  open  town. 
No  doubt  he  had  ordered  the  erection  of  a  stronghold  here 
immediately  on  the  fall  of  Llewellyn.  This  was  in  the 
autumn  of  1282,  and  Edward  was  born,  it  is  said,  in  the 
Castle  of  Caernavon,  on  the  25th  of  April,  1284.  Here 
was  a  good  part  of  two  years  in  which  a  strong  building 
might  have  been  raised  sufficient  for  a  stout  defence  :  and 
this  is  probably  what  is  meant  when  it  is  said  by  the  his- 
torians that  Edward  commenced  this  castle  in  A.  D.  1282-3, 


120  CAERNAVON     CASTLE 

and  completed  it  in  two  or  three  years.  It  is  most  probable 
that  he  did  commence  and  complete  such  a  castle  as 
answered  his  immediate  purpose,  and  that  in  this  Castle  his 
son  Edward  was  born ;  that  Edward  I.,  however,  contem- 
plated and  erected  a  much  larger  and  more  imposing  castle 
on  the  spot — the  present  structure  ;  and  that  he  caused  the 
part  in  which  his  son's  birth  took  place  to  be  incased  in  the 
larger  building,  and  that  it  forms  an  internal  part  of  the 
present  Eagle  Tower,  just  as  the  poet  Thomson's  cottage 
at  Richmond  now  forms  a  portion  of  the  larger  villa  of  the 
Earl  of  Shaftesbury.  It  may  be  remarked  that  there  is  no 
appearance  of  any  different  masonry  on  the  exterior  of  this 
part  of  the  Eagle  Tower.  Of  course  not.  The  architect 
would  new-front  that  part  in  uniformity  with  the  rest;  but 
that  need  not  in  the  least  disturb  the  existence  of  this  room. 
That  is  our  opinion  of  the  real  fact ;  and  it  is  the  one 
which  at  once  reconciles  the  tradition  and  the  proofs  that 
the  present  splendid  fabric  was  not  completed  in  two  years, 
but  in  two  reigns.  All  Mr.  Hartshorne's  statistical  facts 
may  be  fully  admitted,  and  the  tradition  of  the  place  remain 
untouched.  We  ourselves  have  just  as  much,  or  rather 
more,  faith  in  tradition,  than  in  statistics;  for,  in  scores  of 
cases,  tradition  has  asserted  itself  successfully  against  ap- 
parent facts,  and,  in  scores  of  cases,  statistics  have  proved 
very  delusive.  That  Edward  I.  would  be  very  sure  to  pre- 
serve the  locale  of  his  son's  birth,  and  that  the  Welsh  would 
vividly  retain  a  knowledge  of  it,  may  be  inferred  from  the 
part  which  Edward  meant  to  play  with  his  son,  and  the  de- 
lusive hope  which  his  plan  excited  in  the  minds  of  the 


CAERNAVON     CASTLE  I2i 

Welsh.  He  presented  this  infant  son  to  them,  and  told 
them  that  they  should  have  a  native  Welshman  for  their 
prince.  As  Alphonso,  Edward's  eldest  son,  was  still  living, 
the  Welsh,  in  their  ardent  patriotism,  fondly  jumped  to 
the  -  idea  that  they  would  have  their  own  principality 
under  a  prince  of  their  own.  Alphonso  died,  Edward  of 
Caernavon  became  King  of  England,  and  that  hope  was 
at  once  sternly  quenched.  .Under  such  circumstances,  the 
Welsh  were  not  likely  to  forget  the  spot  where  the  prince 
on  whom  such  hopes  were  hinged  first  saw  the  light.  We 
may,  therefore,  without  much  chance  of  mistake,  accept  at 
once  the  facts  that  Edward  II.  was  born  in  this  very  tower, 
and  yet  that  the  Eagle  Tower  was  not  completed  till  the 
tenth  year  of  the  second  Edward's  reign. 

The  main  gateway  of  the  Castle  is  flanked  by  lofty 
towers  of  vast  strength.  Over  the  grand  entrance  arch 
stands,  in  a  niche,  a  mutilated  statue  of  Edward  I.,  with  his 
hand  upon  a  half-drawn  sword,  as  if  to  intimate  that  he  was 
equally  prepared  to  pluck  it  forth  on  any  menace  of  resist- 
ance, or  to  sheathe  it  at  the  desire  for  peace.  In  the  arch- 
way beneath  are  grooves  for  four  portcullises.  The  en- 
trance on  the  east  side  is  called  the  Queen's  Gate,  because 
Eleanor  is  said  by  tradition  to  have  entered  the  Castle  by  it. 
On  passing  into  the  interior  you  observe  the  traces,  on  the 
two  opposite  buildings,  of  a  partition  wall  having  formerly 
divided  it  into  two  courts.  Much  of  the  interior  is  cleared 
away,  leaving  exposed  one  of  the  fine  corridors,  which  led 
from  one  part  of  the  castle  to  another.  On  the  south-east 
side  is  some  modern  building,  which  has  been  raised  within 


122  CAERNAVON    CASTLE 

the  old  walls.  Several  of  the  dungeons  are  yet  visible  ;  and 
in  one  of  these  was  confined,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  the 
celebrated  William  Prynne. 

No  more  zealous,  fiery,  and  yet  honest  spirit,  certainly 
was  ever  confined  here  than  Prynne.  He  was  at  once  a 
lawyer  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  and  a  determined  Puritan.  His 
famous  Histriomastix,  or  a  Scourge  for  Stage  Players,  being 
supposed  to  reflect  on  Henrietta,  the  Queen  of  Charles  I., 
who  had  herself  acted  in  a  pastoral  at  Somerset  House, 
Prynne  was  prosecuted  in  the  Star  Chamber;  and  his  sen- 
tence and  its  rigid  execution  are  a  striking  proof  of  the 
savage  spirit  of  the  age,  though  it  was  already  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  Seventeenth  Century,  namely,  in  1634.  He  was 
fined  .£3,000,  expelled  from  the  University  of  Oxford,  and 
the  Society  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  degraded  from  the  bar,  set  in 
the  pillory,  both  his  ears  cut  off,  his  book  burnt  publicly  by 
the  hangman,  and  himself  condemned  to  perpetual  impris- 
onment. But  no  amount  of  cruelty  could  tame  that  daring 
soul.  Whilst  still  imprisoned  in  the  Tower,  and  after  three 
years'  durance,  he  launched  forth  another  book,  reflecting 
severely  on  the  hierarchy  generally,  and  particularly  on  the 
popish  follies  and  political  despotism  of  Archbishop  Laud. 
For  this  he  was  further  sentenced  by  the  infamous  Star 
Chamber  to  be  fined  ,£5,000,  to  be  again  set  in  the  pillory, 
to  be  branded  on  both  cheeks  with  the  letters  S  and  L,  for 
Seditious  Libeller,  to  have  the  very  roots  of  his  ears  dug 
out  by  the  hangman,  and  to  be  imprisoned  in  this  Castle  of 
Caernavon. 

But  the  event  showed  that  there  was  a  spirit  afloat  which 


CAERNAVON    CASTLE 


123 


these  fierce  barbarities  of  regal  tyranny  were  only  rousing  into 
a  degree  of  fury  which  would  sweep  both  church  and  throne 
from  the  land.  The  Puritan  friends  of  Prynne  flocked  to 
Caernavon  Castle  in  such  numbers,  that  the  poor  mutilated 
prisoner  sate  more  like  a  monarch  holding  a  perpetual  levee 
than  a  convict  who  had  endured  the  vilest  insults  and  the 
savagest  brutalities  of  the  law.  Only  ten  weeks  had  elapsed 
since  Prynne  was  brought  to  this  royal  stronghold  when  he 
was  illegally  removed  by  a  warrant  from  the  Lords  of  the 
Council,  and  removed  to  the  Castle  of  Mount  Orgueil,  in 
the  island  of  Jersey. 

There  is  no  reminiscence  more  lively  than  that  of  the 
short  incarceration  of  Prynne  in  this  castle.  One  of  its 
earliest  historical  events  was  the  surprise  of  it  by  Madoc,  a 
natural  son  of  Llewellyn,  in  1295,  and  his  retention  of  it 
till  Edward  I.  expelled  him  from  it.  In  1402,  Owen  Glen- 
dower  made  a  successful  attempt  to  seize  several  of  the 
Welsh  castles,  but  was  repulsed  from  the  gates  of  this 
stronghold.  In  the  Wars  of  the  Roses  it  repeatedly  changed 
masters,  and,  in  1644,  Cromwell's  forces  obtained  possession 
of  it,  made  400  of  the  garrison  prisoners,  and  enriched 
themselves  with  much  spoil.  Lord  Byron  soon  after  re- 
took it  for  the  king;  but  in  1646  the  Parliament  regained 
it.  In  1660,  the  first  year  of  Charles  II.,  an  order  was 
issued  for  the  demolition  of  the  Castle ;  but,  fortunately,  it 
was  not  completely  carried  out.  The  property  still  con- 
tinues in  the  possession  of  the  Crown;  and  the  Marquis  of 
Anglesea  holds  the  office  of  constable  of  it,  as  well  as  that 
of  Mayor  of  the  town  and  ranger  of  Snowdon  Forest. 


A  BALL  AT  THE  WINTER   PALACE 
THEOPHILE  GAUTIER 

I  AM  going  to  tell  you  about  a  fete  at  which  I  was 
present  without  being  there,  from  which  my  body 
was  absent  but  to  which  my  eye  was  invited — a  court  ball ! 
Invisible,  I  saw  everything,  and,  moreover,  I  did  not  have 
upon  my  finger  the  Ring  of  Gyges,  nor  upon  my  head  the 
green  felt  cap  of  a  Kobold,  nor  any  other  talisman. 

Upon  the  Alexander  Square,  covered  with  its  carpet  of 
snow,  numerous  carriages  were  stationed  although  the  cold 
would  freeze  Parisian  coachmen  and  horses,  but  which  did 
not  seem  sufficiently  rigorous  for  the  Russians  to  have  the 
braziers  lighted  under  the  iron  kiosks  with  Chinese  roofs 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  Winter  Palace.  The  trees  of  the 
Admiralty,  diamonded  with  hoar-frost,  looked  like  great 
white  plumes  planted  in  the  earth,  and  the  Triumphal  Col- 
umn had  candied  its  rose  granite  with  a  layer  of  ice  re- 
sembling sugar;  the  moon,  that  rose  pure  and  bright, 
poured  its  dead  light  upon  all  this  nocturnal  whiteness, 
turned  the  shadows  to  blue,  and  gave  a  fantastic  appearance 
to  the  motionless  silhouettes  of  the  equipages  whose 
frosted  lanterns  punctuated  the  immense  expanse  with  yel- 
lowish points  like  polar  stars.  In  the  background,  the 
colossal  Winter  Palace  flamed  at  all  its  windows,  like  a 
mountain  pierced  with  holes  and  lighted  by  an  internal  fire. 


A  BALL  AT  THE  WINTER  PALACE 


125 


Absolute  silence  reigned  over  the  square ;  the  rigour  of 
the  temperature  kept  away  the  curious,  who  in  Paris  would 
not  have  neglected  flocking  together  for  the  spectacle  of 
such  a  fete,  although  watched  from  a  distance  and  from  the 
outside ;  and  if  there  had  been  a  crowd,  the  approaches  to 
the  palace  are  so  vast  that  it  would  have  been  scattered  and 
lost  in  that  enormous  space  which  only  an  army  could  fill. 

A  sleigh  crossed  diagonally  the  great  white  cloth  upon 
which  was  extended  the  shadow  of  the  Alexandrine  Column 
and  lost  itself  in  the  dark  street  that  separates  the  Winter 
Palace  from  the  Hermitage,  and  that  gains  from  its  aerial 
bridge  some  resemblance  to  the  Canal  della  Paglia  at  Venice. 

A  few  minutes  later,  an  eye,  which  you  may  consider  as 
separated  from  the  body,  sped  along  a  cornice  supported  by 
the  portico  of  a  gallery  of  the  palace  ;  rows  of  wax-candles 
planted  in  the  mouldings  of  the  entablature  hid  it  behind  a 
hedge  of  fire  and  allowed  no  one  from  below  to  perceive  its 
feeble  gleam.  The  light  hid  it  better  than  shadow  could 
have  done ;  it  was  lost  in  the  dazzling  brilliancy. 

The  gallery  seen  from  there  extended  long  and  deep  with 
its  polished  columns,  its  mirror-like  inlaid  floor  full  of 
gliding  reflections  of  gold  candlelight,  its  pictures  filling  the 
spaces  between  the  columns,  the  foreshortening  of  which 
prevented  the  subjects  from  being  discerned.  Already  bril- 
liant uniforms  were  promenading  and  ample  court  robes 
were  trailing  their  waves  of  material  there.  Little  by  little, 
the  crowd  increased  and,  like  a  river,  variegated  and  shin- 
ing, filled  the  bed  of  the  gallery  which,  notwithstanding  its 
great  width,  had  already  become  too  narrow. 


126  A  BALL  AT  THE  WINTER  PALACE 

Every  eye  of  this  crowd  was  turned  towards  the  door 
through  which  the  emperor  must  enter.  The  folding 
doors  opened:  the  emperor,  the  empress,  and  the  grand- 
dukes  traversed  the  gallery  between  two  suddenly-formed 
hedges  of  the  invited  guests,  addressing  a  few  words 
with  gracious  and  noble  familiarity  to  personages  of 
distinction  stationed  along  their  way.  Then  the  im- 
perial group  disappeared  through  the  door  directly 
opposite,  followed  at  a  respectful  distance  by  the  grand 
dignitaries  of  State,  the  diplomatic  body,  the  generals,  and 
the  courtiers. 

The  procession  had  scarcely  entered  the  ball-room  be- 
fore the  eye  was  installed  there,  equipped  this  time  with  a 
good  opera-glass.  It  was  like  a  furnace  of  light  and  heat, 
a  blaze  so  intense  as  to  seem  almost  like  a  conflagration. 
Cordons  of  fire  ran  along  the  cornices ;  in  the  spaces  be- 
tween the  windows  high  stands,  with  a  thousand  arms 
each,  blazed  like  burning  bushes ;  hundreds  of  chandeliers 
hung  from  the  ceilings,  like  fiery  constellations  in  the 
midst  of  a  phosphorescent  fog.  And  all  these  lights, 
interlacing  their  rays,  made  a  most  dazzling  illumi- 
nation. 

The  first  impression,  especially  at  this  height  on  leaning 
over  this  gulf  of  light,  is  a  sort  of  vertigo  ;  at  first,  across  the 
waves  of  light  from  the  mirrors,  the  glitter  of  the  gold,  the 
sparkle  of  the  diamonds,  the  flash  of  the  jewels,  and  the 
sheen  of  rich  material,  nothing  can  be  distinguished.  A 
swarmlike  scintillation  prevents  you  from  seizing  any 
forms ;  then  soon  the  pupil  grows  accustomed  to  the 


A  BALL  AT  THE  WINTER  PALACE       i2j 

dazzle  and  chases  the  black  butterflies  that  flutter  before 
it  as  after  looking  at  the  sun ;  from  one  end  to  the  other, 
it  embraces  this  gigantic  hall  all  in  marble  and  white  stucco, 
the  polished  walls  of  which  shine  like  the  jaspers  and  por- 
phyries in  the  Babylonian  architecture  of  Martin's  en- 
gravings, vaguely  reflecting  lights  and  objects. 

The  kaleidoscope,  with  its  falling  apart  of  coloured 
particles  that  ceaselessly  re-form  in  new  figures ;  or  the 
chromatrope,  with  its  expansions  and  contractions,  where  a 
painting  becomes  a  flower,  then  changes  its  petals  for  the 
points  of  a  crown,  and  ends  by  whirling  into  a  sun,  pass- 
ing from  a  ruby  to  an  emerald,  from  a  topaz  to  an  ame- 
thyst around  a  diamond  centre,  can  alone,  thousands  of 
times  enlarged,  give  an  idea  of  this  moving  parterre  of 
gold,  precious  stones,  and  flowers,  changing  its  glittering 
arabesques  by  means  of  its  perpetual  agitation. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  imperial  family,  this  moving 
effulgence  came  to  rest,  and  you  could  distinguish  faces 
and  persons  across  the  subdued  scintillation. 

In  Russia,  the  court  balls  open  with  what  is  called  a 
polonaise :  this  is  not  a  dance,  but  a  sort  of  a  parade,  a 
procession,  a  torch-march.  Those  who  take  part  in  it 
divide  in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  in  the  centre  of  the  ball- 
room a  sort  of  avenue  of  which  they  form  the  hedges. 
When  everybody  is  in  place,  the  orchestra  plays  an  air  in 
a  majestic  and  slow  rhythm,  and  the  promenade  begins ;  it 
is  led  by  the  Emperor,  who  gives  his  hand  to  a  princess,  or 
a  lady  whom  he  wishes  to  honour. 

Behind  the  imperial  family,  come  the  high  officers  of  the 


I28  A  BALL  AT  THE  WINTER  PALACE 

army  and  palace,  the  grand  dignitaries  each  giving  a  hand 
to  a  lady. 

The  procession  continues  to  march  and  is  recruited  on 
the  way  :  a  gentleman  leaves  the  hedge  and  offers  his  hand 
to  a  lady  placed  opposite  to  him,  and  this  new  couple  joins 
the  others  and  takes  its  place  in  the  line,  with  rhythmic 
steps  slowing  up  or  accelerating  according  to  the  move- 
ment of  the  head.  It  cannot  be  an  easy  thing  to  march 
thus,  holding  merely  by  the  finger-tips  under  the  fire  of  a 
thousand  readily  ironical  glances :  the  least  gaucherie  of 
countenance,  the  slightest  awkwardness  with  the  feet,  an 
almost  imperceptible  fault  in  the  time  would  be  noticed. 
Military  habits  help  many  of  the  men,  but  how  difficult  for 
the  women  !  The  majority  of  them  acquit  themselves  ad- 
mirably, and  of  more  than  one  of  them  you  could  say  : 
Et  vera  incessu  patuit  dea  !  They  pass  along  lightly  beneath 
their  plumes,  their  flowers,  and  their  diamonds,  modestly 
lowering  their  eyes  or  letting  them  wander  with  an  air  of 
perfect  innocence,  manoeuvring  their  waves  of  silk  and 
lace  with  a  movement  of  the  body  or  a  little  stroke  of  the 
heel,  refreshing  themselves  with  a  flutter  of  the  fan,  as 
much  at  ease  as  if  they  were  walking  in  the  solitary  avenue 
of  a  park. 

More  than  one  great  actress  has  never  learnt  how  to 
move  in  so  noble,  graceful  and  simple  a  manner  while  the 
world  is  gazing  at  her. 

When  the  polonaise  has  traversed  the  salon  and  the 
gallery,  the  ball  begins.  The  dances  have  nothing  char- 
acteristic in  them ;  they  are  quadrilles,  waltzes,  and  redowas 


A  BALL  AT  THE  WINTER  PALACE 


129 


as  in  Paris,  London,  Madrid,  Vienna,  and  everywhere  else 
in  the  fashionable  world ;  except,  however,  the  mazourka 
which  is  danced  at  St.  Petersburg  with  a  perfection  and 
elegance,  unknown  elsewhere.  Local  customs  are  every- 
where disappearing  and  first  of  all  they  desert  the  upper 
ranks  of  society.  To  find  them  anew,  one  must  with- 
draw from  the  centres  of  civilization  and  descend  to  the 
depths  of  the  people  ! 

The  general  effect,  however,  was  charming :  the  dance 
formed  amid  the  splendid  crowd  which  arranged  itself  sym- 
metrically to  make  room  for  it ;  the  whirl  of  the  waltz  dis- 
tended the  robes  like  the  skirts  of  whirling  dervishes,  and 
the  rapid  motion  lengthened  out  the  strings  of  diamonds 
and  the  swords  of  gold  and  silver  in  serpentine  gleams 
like  flashes  of  lightning ;  and  the  little  gloved  hands  resting 
on  the  epaulettes  of  the  waltzers  looked  like  white  camellias 
in  vases  of  massive  gold. 

After  an  hour  or  two  of  bird's  eye  observation,  the  eye 
transported  itself  beneath  the  arches  of  another  hall 
through  mysterious  and  labyrinth-like  passages,  where  the 
distant  sounds  of  the  orchestra  and  the  fete  died  away  in 
indistinct  murmurings.  A  comparative  darkness  reigned  in 
this  enormous  hall :  it  was  here  that  the  supper  was  to  take 
place.  Many  cathedrals  are  less  vast.  In  the  background, 
through  the  shadows,  the  white  lines  of  the  tables  were 
outlined ;  in  the  corners  vaguely  glimmered  gigantic  blocks 
of  indistinct  orfevrerie  sharply  spangled  flashing  back  a  ray 
coming  I  know  not  whence  :  these  were  the  sideboards.  A 
velvet  platform  revealed  steps  leading  to  a  table  formed  like 


130 


A  BALL  AT  THE  WINTER  PALACE 


a  horseshoe.  In  silent  activity  came  and  went  lackeys  in 
full  livery,  major-domos,  and  gastronomic  officials,  putting 
the  last  touch  to  the  viands.  A  few  stray  lights  spotted 
this  dark  background,  like  sparks  upon  burning  paper. 

However,  innumerable  candles  filled  the  chandeliers  and 
followed  the  cordons  of  the  friezes  and  the  outlines  of  the 
arcades.  They  sprang  up  white  from  their  bunched 
candelabra  like  pistils  in  the  calixes  of  flowers,  but  not  the 
slightest  luminous  star  trembled  at  their  tips.  One  might 
have  called  them  frozen  stalactites;  and  already  was  heard, 
like  the  rush  of  overflowing  waters,  the  heavy  sound  of  the 
approaching  throng. — The  Emperor  appeared  at  the  thresh- 
old :  it  was  like  a  fiat  lux.  A  subtle  flame  ran  from  one 
candle  to  another,  as  quick  as  lightning :  everything  be- 
came illuminated  at  a  single  stroke  and  a  flood  of  light 
suddenly  filled  the  immense  hall,  aglow  as  if  by  magic. 
This  sudden  transition  from  penumbra  to  the  most  brilliant 
light-  was  truly  fairy-like.  In  our  prosaic  century  every 
wonder  must  be  explained :  threads  of  gun-cotton  con- 
nected all  the  wicks  soaked  with  an  inflammable  essence, 
and  a  light  applied  in  seven  or  eight  places,  propagated 
itself  instantly.  With  gas-lights  lowered  and  raised  one 
could  produce  an  analogous  effect ;  but  gas,  as  we  know,  is 
not  used  at  the  Winter  Palace.  They  burn  nothing  but 
candles  of  the  purest  wax.  It  is  in  Russia  only  that 
the  bees  now  contribute  to  illumination.  The  Empress 
took  her  place  with  several  personages  of  high  distinction 
upon  the  platform  where  stood  the  horseshoe  table.  Behind 
her  gilt  arm-chair  unfolded,  like  a  gigantic  floral  firework,  an 


A  BALL  AT  THE  WINTER  PALACE  131 

immense  sheaf  of  white  and  pink  camellias  piled  against  the 
marble  wall.  Twelve  negroes  of  large  size  chosen  from 
among  the  best  specimens  of  the  African  race,  dressed  a  la 
mameluk, — a  white  turban  twisted  and  rolled,  a  green 
round  jacket  with  golden  coins,  full  trousers  of  red  held  by 
a  belt  of  cashmire,  the  whole  braided  and  embroidered  on 
all  the  seams,  descended  and  mounted  the  steps  of  the 
platform,  handing  the  plates  to  the  lackeys  or  taking  them 
from  their  hands  with  movements  full  of  the  grace  and 
dignity  peculiar  to  Eastern  races,  although  their  employ- 
ment was  servile.  These  Orientals  having  forgotten 
Desdemona,  did  their  duties  with  a  majestic  air  and  gave 
to  this  European  fete  an  Asiatic  cachet  in  the  best  taste. 

Without  being  shown  to  their  places,  the  invited  guests 
placed  themselves  at  the  tables  intended  for  them.  Rich 
epergnes,  silvered  and  gilt,  representing  groups  of  figures,  or 
flowers,  or  mythological  or  fantastical  ornaments,  garnished 
the  centres  ;  and  candelabra  alternated  with  pyramids  of 
fruits  and  set  pieces.  Regarded  from  a  height,  the  brilliant 
symmetry  of  the  crystals  and  porcelains,  the  silver  and  the 
flowers,  was  understood  better  than  from  below.  A  double 
row  of  women's  necks  glittering  with  diamonds,  and 
framed  in  lace,  ranged  the  whole  length  of  the  table-cloths, 
disclosing  their  beauties  to  the  invisible  eye,  whose  glance 
could  also  wander  among  the  flowers,  the  leaves,  the 
feathers,  and  the  jewels. 

The  Emperor  visited  the  tables,  addressing  a  few  words 
to  those  he  wished  to  distinguish,  sitting  down  sometimes 
and  moistening  his  lips  with  a  glass  of  champagne,  then 


A  BALL  AT  THE  WINTER  PALACE 

withdrawing  to  do  the  same  elsewhere.     These  stops  of  a 
few  moments  are  considered  a  great  mark  of  favour. 

After  supper,  the  dances  were  resumed  ;  but  the  night 
was  drawing  on.  It  was  time  to  leave  ;  the  fete  could  only 
repeat  itself,  and  for  a  purely  ocular  enjoyment  it  no  longer 
offered  the  same  interest.  The  sleigh  that  had  crossed 
the  square  to  stop  at  a  little  door  in  the  alley  separating  the 
Winter  Palace  from  the  Hermitage,  reappeared,  making  its 
way  to  the  side  of  St.  Isaac's  Church,  and  bringing  a 
pelisse  and  a  fur  cap  which  completely  covered  the  face. 
As  if  the  sky  wished  to  rival  the  splendours  of  the  earth, 
an  aurora  borealis  threw  into  the  night  its  polar  fireworks 
with  rockets  of  silver,  gold,  purple,  and  mother-of-pearl, 
extinguishing  the  stars  with  its  phosphorescent  irradiations. 


FONTAINEBLEAU 

GRANT    ALLEN 

WHAT  Versailles  is  to  the  Augustan  age  of  Louis 
Quatorze,  that  and  more  is  Fontainebleau  to  the 
French  Renaissance.  As  the  Palace  in  the  Marsh  reflects 
and  preserves  for  us  the  glories  of  the  Grand  Monarch,  so 
the  Palace  in  the  Forest  reflects  and  preserves  for  us  the 
glories  of  the  gay  and  splendour-loving  kings  from  Fran- 
cois Premier  to  Henri  Quatre.  It  embodies  in  itself  at  a 
single  glance  what  may  fairly  be  called  the  age  of  the 
Medici  in  France,  and  shows  us  at  one  coup  d'ceil  the  entire 
history  and  development  of  Renaissance  architecture  among 
the  French  people.  Its  great  halls  and  long  galleries  are 
replete  to  this  day  with  memories  of  the  giddy  butterfly 
throng  which  crowded  the  court  of  "  the  kings  who 
amused  themselves." 

From  a  very  early  period,  a  Chateau  of  the  French  kings 
occupied  the  site  of  the  existing  palace.  But  of  this  build- 
ing not  a  single  relic  now  shows  externally  in  any  part  of 
the  facade,  with  the  solitary  exception  of  one  mediaeval 
turret,  assigned  to  Saint  Louis,  and  still  adjoining  the  Cour 
Ovale  of  the  modern  palace.  The  origin  of  the  first 
Chateau  was  simple  and  natural  enough.  It  existed  as  a 
hunting  tower  in  the  midst  of  a  royal  forest.  In  our  own 
day,  that  wild  woodland  region  with  its  strange  sandstone 
rocks  and  deep  parallel  valleys  envisages  itself  to  most  of 


134 


FONTAINEBLEAU 


us  as  a  mere  appanage  of  the  great  mansion  which  skirts  its 
fringe.  But,  in  reality,  it  is  the  forest,  of  course,  which 
created  the  palace,  and  not  the  palace  which  created  the 
forest.  Some  thirty  and  five  miles  south-east  of  Paris,  the 
Seine  bends  round  and  partly  traverses  a  remarkable  district 
of  long  sandy  ridges,  tilted  up  at  an  angle  as  the  last  sub- 
siding ripple  of  that  great  secular  earth-wave  which  pro- 
duced through  slow  ages  the  elevation  of  the  central  Euro- 
pean axis  in  the  Alpine  region.  From  time  immemorial, 
this  light  and  somewhat  sterile  soil  has  been  covered  by  a 
thick  growth  of  native  oaks  and  beeches.  The  maritime 
pines  and  Riga  spruces,  indeed,  which  add  so  greatly  to  the 
picturesque  effect  of  the  woodland  at  the  present  day,  are 
but  recent  introductions  from  the  Mediterranean  and  Baltic 
shore ;  and  the  whole  forest  as  we  now  know  it,  has  been 
trimmed  and  dressed  by  the  obtrusive  art  of  the  modern 
planter,  out  of  all  similitude  to  its  antique  self.  But  the 
deciduous  trees  are  for  the  most  part  indigenpus ;  and  the 
few  stags  and  wild  boars  still  carefully  preserved  by  the 
game-keepers  of  the  Republic  represent  the  descendants  of 
a  far  wilder  fauna  which  Merwing  and  Carling  may  well 
have  hunted  a  dozen  centuries  since  under  the  spreading 
boughs  of  those  ancient  oaks  that  bear  to-day  the  quaint 
names  of  Pharamond  and  of  Charlemagne. 

The  original  Chateau,  of  which  St.  Louis's  bed-chamber 
forms  the  chief  remaining  portion,  was  probably  founded 
under  Louis  VII.  in  the  Twelfth  Century.  The  Chapel 
of  Saint  Saturnin,  the  first  predecessor  of  the  existing 
church,  has  for  Englishmen  indeed  a  special  interest  from 


FONTAINEBLEAU 

the  fact  that  it  was  consecrated  by  Thomas  a  Becket  dur- 
ing his  period  of  exile  from  the  anger  'of  Henry  at  the 
French  Court.  The  Chateau  was  a  favourite  residence  of 
the  saintly  Louis  IX.  whose  name  still  clings  to  the  arcade 
of  the  Cour  Ovale,  though  scarcely  a  trace  of  his  buildings 
has  survived  the  complete  reconstruction  of  the  exterior 
front  under  Francois  Premier.  The  Fontainebleau  of  those 
days,  in  fact,  was  a  feudal  castle  of  the  frowning  type  with 
which  we  are  all  so  familiar  along  the  banks  of  the  Loire 
or  among  the  dales  of  Normandy.  Nothing  could  be  more 
different  than  its  gloomy  turrets,  its  narrow  windows,  its 
airless  halls,  and  its  mediaeval  tortuousness,  from  the  light, 
the  space,  the  air,  the  brightness  of  its  Renaissance 
successor. 

At  last,  however,  Francois  I.  came.  By  his  time,  the 
character  of  the  French  monarchy  —  the  character  of  the 
French  nation  —  had  undergone  a  complete  and  lasting 
change.  Louis  Onze  had  done  his  cruel  work  both 
wisely  and  well.  The  feudal  spirit  was  half  broken ;  the 
task  of  Richelieu  was  more  than  half  begun.  Unification 
and  absolutism  were  the  order  of  the  day  all  over  Europe. 
Artillery  had  destroyed  the  power  of  the  great  nobles  in 
their  massive  castles.  The  introduction  of  gunpowder, 
it  has  been  well  said,  ruined  feudalism.  Fortresses  which 
had  been  impregnable  against  the  attacks  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  crumbled  to  pieces  before  one  volley  of  the  royal 
cannon.  Throughout  Europe,  the  crown  became  every- 
where irresistible.  As  a  natural  result  of  this  great  social 
revolution,  a  Renaissance  in  architecture  became  inevi- 


FONTAINEBLEAU 

table  in  the  west,  the  kings  and  rulers  of  France  and 
England  exchanged  the  gloomy  darkness  of  the  mediaeval 
stronghold  for  the  light  and  air  and  spaciousness  of  the 
Italian  mansion.  The  merchant  republics  of  Italy  were 
already  familiar  with  great  princely  palaces  like  the  Pitti, 
and  the  Strozzi,  or  the  magnificent  mansions  which  line 
the  long  curve  of  the  Grand  Canal.  Peace  under  the 
strong  hand  of  the  royal  despot,  were  he  Valois  or  Tudor, 
made  the  imitation  of  these  great  houses  possible  in  the 
north  and  west.  Threatening  walls  and  serried  battle- 
ments gave  way  as  if  by  magic  to  the  pomp  and  grace  of 
the  Italianate  mansion.  Knowle  and  Longleet,  Burleigh 
and  Hatfield,  Hardwick  and  Audley  End,  are  familiar 
instances  in  England  of  the  newer  style.  The  high  roofed 
gables,  the  long  lines  of  wide  windows,  the  jutting  oriels 
that  look  down  on  the  terraced  Italian  gardens,  the  vases 
and  fountains,  the  formal  walks  and  parterres,  all  mark  the 
arrival  of  a  new  epoch.  The  mediaeval  castle  was  in 
essence  a  fortress  adapted  mainly  for  defence ;  the  Italian 
mansion  is  in  essence  a  residence,  adapted  mainly  for  the 
display  of  magnificence  and  wealth. 

In  France,  this  great  revolution  goes  directly  back  to  the 
influence  of  the  Medici.  Fran9ois  Premier  began  the 
Louvre  and  began  Fontainebleau.  With  Louis  XIII., 
the  son  of  a  Medici  mother,  both  were  practically 
complete.  The  long  succession  of  high  Mansard  roofs 
and  connecting  galleries  marks  the  very  spirit  and  ideal  of  the 
French  Renaissance — its  splendour,  its  grandeur,  its  vast- 
ness  of  aim,  its  want  of  picturesque  feeling,  its  love  of  the 


FONTAINEBLEAU 


137 


magnificent,  its  contempt  of  the  simple,  the  natural,  the 
merely  beautiful.  Imposing  Fontainebleau  extorts  one's 
admiration,  it  never  attracts  one's  love. 

The  nucleus  of  the  existing  building  thus  dates  back 
practically  to  the  gay  days  of  Francois  Premier.  It  was  he 
who  rebuilt  the  chapel  of  Saint  Saturnin,  and  erected  that 
magnificent  pile  of  the  Porte  Doree,  whose  lavish  display 
of  glass  in  its  broad-bayed  windows  looks  like  a  modern 
protest  against  the  loopholes  and  embrasures  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  It  was  he,  too,  who  began  the  great  Galerie  des 
Fetes,  afterwards  completed  by  Henri  II.,  whose  name  it 
now  bears,  as  well  as  the  Galerie  d'Ulysse,  pulled  down  at 
a  later  date  by  Louis  XV.,  to  make  room  for  the  too 
numerous  ladies  of  his  Sybaritic  court.  It  is  to  Francois 
equally  that  we  owe  the  Cour  Ovale,  and  the  splendid 
Porte  Dauphine  or  Baptistery,  which  serves  as  its  gateway. 
The  initial  F,  so  familiar  to  all  of  us  on  the  exquisite 
facade  of  the  oldest  portion  of  the  Louvre,  reappears  in 
many  places  on  the  gallery  of  the  Cour  de  la  Fontaine. 
The  only  part  of  the  gardens,  recalling  the  Boboli  or  the 
villas  of  Florence,  which  can  with  certainty  be  ascribed  to 
this  earliest  date,  is  that  known  as  the  Orangerie  and  the 
Parterre  du  Tibre.  But  the  grotto  of  what  is  now  the 
Jardin  Anglais  was  built  by  Francois  as  a  Salle  de  Bain 
for  his  favourite,  the  Duchesse  d'£tampes.  Nothing  now 
remains  of  that  voluptuous  retreat  except  the  satyrs  of  the 
doorway  and  some  torsos  of  rough  sandstone  worn  out  of 
all  semblance  of  human  limbs  and  muscles,  and  relegated  to 
a  place  in  the  existing  stables. 


138 


FONTAINEBLEAU 


As  yet,  however,  the  artistic  impulse  came  entirely  from 
Italy.  Serlio,  the  architect,  superintended  the  design ; 
painters  and  sculptors  from  beyond  the  Alps  contributed 
the  decorations.  French  art  in  those  days  was  still  feeble 
and  nascent.  Florence  sent  Leonardo  da  Vinci  and  Andrea 
del  Sarto  to  the  new  palace  at  Fontainebleau  ;  the  rising 
school  of  Primaticcio  and  Niccolo  dell'  Abbate,  whose 
artistic  existence  almost  sums  itself  up  in  the  work  they 
performed  here.  Indeed,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that 
the  pupils  of  Giulio  Romano  produced  the  profoundest 
effects  upon  the  French  Renaissance,  and  influenced  every 
work  of  art  of  the  entire  period  from  the  gallery  of 
Francois  Premier  to  the  Rubens's  in  the  Louvre. 

The  F.  and  the  Salamander  of  the  founder  of  the  palace 
are  to  be  found  abundantly  on  many  portions  of  his  mag- 
nificent erection.  But  the  finest  hall  of  all,  the  Salle  des 
Fetes,  bears  now  the  name  of  Galerie  de  Henri  II.,  though 
built  by  Francois,  because  Henri  decorated  it  in  the  garish 
taste  of  the  time  to  meet  the  wishes  of  his  mistress,  Diane 
de  Poictiers.  This  hall  still  remains  the  glory  of  Fontaine- 
bleau. Ninety  feet  long  by  thirty  broad,  and  profusely  dec- 
orated, it  speaks  in  every  part  the  taste  of  that  gay  and  fan- 
tastic epoch.  Ten  colossal  round  arches  form  the  bays  of 
the  windows  ;  five  give  upon  the  parterre,  and  five  on  the 
Cour  Ovale.  The  ornate  ceiling  is  divided  into  octagonal 
panels,  richly  wrought  in  architrave,  frieze,  and  cornice, 
and  bearing  in  relief  the  intertwined  initials  of  Henri  him- 
self and  of  the  frail  Diane.  Primaticcio  and  Niccolo  sup- 
plied the  frescoes ;  nameless  Italian  artists  moulded  the 


FONTAINEBLEAU 

stucco  fretwork.  The  parquetry  of  the  floor  vies  with  the 
roof  in  magnificence.  This  gorgeous  apartment  may  well 
recall  the  rooms  of  the  gods  in  the  Pitti  Palace,  and  is  only 
surpassed  in  elaborate  over-ornamentation  and  profuseness 
of  handicraft  by  the  gaudy  Galerie  d'Apollon  in  the 
Louvre. 

When  Henri  II.  died,  mortally  wounded  In  a  tournament 
in  the  Palace  Courts,  many  things  fell  with  him — tourna- 
ments themselves  amongst  others,  and  mediaevalism  in  France, 
and  Diane  de  Poictiers.  Catherine  de'  Medici  sent  the  fa- 
vourite packing  to  her  Chateau  d'Anet,  and  bore  rule  herself 
in  her  stead  in  the  half  completed  palace.  The  new  king, 
Francois  II.,  was  a  true  son  of  Fontainebleau.  Here  he 
was  born  in  1543,  and  here,  a  boy  of  seventeen,  he  married 
Mary  Stuart,  whom  he  left  a  girl-widow  so  shortly  after,  to 
exchange  the  luxurious  joys  of  Fontainebleau  for  the 
cramped  closets  of  Holyrood  and  the  austerities  of  John 
Knox  and  his  brother  Calvinists.  Under  Charles  IX.,  the 
work  still  went  forward  as  before,  and  Primaticcio  in  his 
old  age  painted  the  frescoes  of  the  Galerie  d'Ulysse,  after- 
wards ruthlessly  destroyed  under  Louis  XV. 

Beyond  being  born  in  the  palace,  Henri  III.  contributed 
as  little  to  the  history  of  Fontainebleau  as  to  that  of  his 
dominions  generally.  But  Henri  IV.  left  no  small  mark  of 
his  masterful  hand  on  the  great  growing  pile  whose  over- 
grown area  he  well-nigh  doubled.  The  Cour  des  Offices, 
the  Cour  des  Princes,  the  Galerie  de  Diane,  the  balustrades 
in  the  Fountain  Court,  the  decorations  in  the  Chapel  of 
the  Holy  Trinity,  the  park  with  its  grand  canal  and  its  or- 


I40 


FONTAINEBLEAU 


namental  waters,  all  date  from  the  days  of  the  greatest  of 
the  Bourbons.  But  the  French  Renaissance  was  not  at  its 
zenith.  Married  though  he  was  to  an  Italian  princess, 
Henri  entrusted  his  work  for  the  most  part  to  native  work- 
men. Paul  Bril  and  Ambroise  Dubois  painted  and  deco- 
rated the  greater  part  of  the  new  halls  ;  the  heads  of  Mer- 
cury, in  the  courtyard  which  still  bears  the  name  of  Henri 
Quatre  are  from  the  chisel  of  a  later  French  sculptor,  Gilles 
Guerin  ;  while  the  simple  but  noble  doorway  which  opens 
upon  the  Place  d'Armes  is  the  work  of  a  local  architect, 
Francois  Jamin  of  Avon. 

It  was  at  Fontainebleau  that  Marie  de'Medici  gave  birth 
to  Louis  XIII.,  who  was  baptized  with  his  sisters  under 
the  quaint  and  ornate  cupola  of  the  Porte  Dauphine,  known 
ever  since  from  that  cause  by  the  name  of  the  Baptistery. 
To  this  one  of  its  sons  the  palace  owes  its  latest  main  addi- 
tions. He  it  was  who  built  the  handsome  horse-shoe  stair- 
case in  the  Cour  des  Adieux,  the  masterpiece  of  Lemercier. 
With  that  addition,  the  history  of  Fontainebleau  practically 
ends.  Events  of  importance  in  the  annals  of  France  took 
place  there  later ;  but  they  are  not  events  in  the  annals  of 
Fontainebleau.  The  great  pile  as  we  know  it  was  then 
really  complete  ;  it  remains  to  us  a  vast  museum  of  Renais- 
sance art  and  Renaissance  feeling.  Subsequent  ages  have 
destroyed,  or  restored,  or  renovated,  or  tampered  with  it, 
but  they  have  not  added  to  it,  and  the  reason  is  clear. 
Louis  <^)uatorze  created  Versailles  ;  and  the  rise  of  Versailles 
was  the  downfall  of  Fontainebleau. 

Some  few  landmarks  of  its  subsequent  vicissitudes,  how- 


FONTAINEBLEAU 


141 


ever,  are  well  known  to  most  of  us.  Louis  Quatorze 
gilded  it  up,  of  course — what  did  not  Louis  gild  ?  Le  Notre 
laid  out  the  gardens — where  did  not  Le  Notre  spread  his 
devastating  gravel  ?  Henrietta  Maria  of  England  took 
refuge  here  among  her  own  people  when  Charles  had  lost 
his  head ;  Christina  of  Sweden  had  made  use  of  its  hos- 
pitality as  a  capital  opportunity  to  murder  Monaldeschi. 
Few  buildings,  indeed,  have  seen  so  many  historic  events  ; 
for  here  Louis  Quatorze  signed  the  Revocation  of  the 
Edict  of  Nantes  which  deprived  France  at  one  blow  of  a 
million  of  citizens  ;  here  Conde  died;  here  James  II.  con- 
soled himself  with  the  consolations  of  a  heavenly  crown  for 
the  loss  of  an  earthly  one  ;  and  here  Peter  of  Muscovy  got 
royally  drunk  after  his  wont  with  all  his  suite,  and  indulged 
in  Russian  horse-play  in  the  ponds  and  gardens.  Under 
Louis  Quinze,  of  funest  memory,  the  decadence  began  ; 
but  still,  as  of  old,  princes  feasted  and  drank,  married  and 
were  given  in  marriage,  under  the  high  roofs  of  the  palace. 
The  king  himself  was  united  here  to  Maria  Leczinska. 
But  the  earthquake  was  at  hand,  for  Voltaire  came  to  stay, 
and  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  heard  the  court  applaud  his 
Devm  du  Village.  Louis  Seize,  good  honest  man,  came 
often  to  hunt,  but  the  Revolution  came  too  and  gutted  the 
Palace.  During  Napoleon's  wars,  it  served  as  a  barrack 
for  prisoners.  When  Monarchy  revived,  Napoleon  spent 
ten  millions  of  francs  in  restoring  and  refurnishing  it. 
Later  on  he  used  it  as  a  prison  for  his  spiritual  father,  Pius 
the  Seventh;  here  he  divorced  Josephine,  and  here  he  lived 
with  Marie  Louise  of  Austria.  Here  too  he  signed  his 


142  FONTAINEBLEAU 

famous  abdication,  and  reviewed  a  year  later,  in  the  self- 
same court,  the  grenadiers  of  the  Hundred  Days  who  bore 
him  back  to  the  Tuileries.  There  its  memories  end.  What 
need  to  speak  of  lesser  things  that  have  happened  since,  and 
obscure  the  recollection  of  those  great  days  in  its  history  ? 


THE   RICCARDI  PALACE 

ALEXANDRE    DUMAS 

Riccardi  Palace  was  built  by  Cosmo  the   Elder, 
JL      whom   his  country  turned  out  twice  as  a  beginning 
and  ended  by  calling  him  its  father. 

Cosmo  arrived  at  one  of  those  happy  epochs  at  which 
everything  in  a  nation  tends  to  expand  at  once,  and  a  man 
of  genius  has  every  facility  for  being  great.  Iji  fact,  the 
brilliant  era  of  the  republic  had  arrived  with  him  :  the  arts 
were  making  their  appearance  on  every  side.  Brunelleschi 
was  building  his  churches,  Donatello  was  carving  his  stat- 
ues and  Orcagna  his  porticos,  Masaccio  was  covering 
the  walls  with  his  frescoes,  and  finally  public  prosperity, 
keeping  pace  with  the  progress  of  the  arts,  rendered  Tus- 
cany, situated  between  Lombardy,  the  States  of  the  Church 
and  the  Venetian  Republic,  not  only  the  most  powerful  but 
also  the  happiest  in  Italy. 

Cosmo  was  born  to  immense  wealth  which  he  had  almost 
doubled,  and  without  being  anything  more  than  a  citizen  he 
had  acquired  a  strange  influence.  Being  outside  the  gov- 
ernment, he  made  no  attacks  upon  it,  but  neither  did  he 
flatter  it.  If  the  government  followed  the  right  path  it  was 
sure  of  his  praise  ;  if  it  departed  from  the  right  way  it  did 
not  escape  his  blame  ;  and  the  praise  or  blame  of  Cosmo 
the  Elder  was  of  supreme  importance,  for  his  weight,  his 
wealth  and  his  clients  gave  to  Cosmo  the  rank  of  a  public 


144 


THE  RICCARDI  PALACE 


man.  He  was  not  yet  the  head  of  the  government,  but  he 
was  already  more  than  that ; — he  was  its  censor. 

Thus  we  can  understand  what  a  tempest  must  be  secretly 
brewing  for  such  a  man.  Cosmo  heard  it  muttering  and 
saw  it  coming ;  but,  entirely  occupied  with  the  vast  works 
that  concealed  his  great  projects,  he  did  not  even  turn  his 
head  towards  the  rising  storm,  but  finished  the  chapel  of 
St.  Lorenzo,  built  the  church  of  the  Dominican  convent  of 
St.  Mark,  erected  the  monastery  of  S.  Frediano,  and,  finally, 
laid  the  foundations  of  the  beautiful  Palace  of  the  Via 
Larga,  now  called  the  Riccardi  Palace.  Only,  when  his 
enemies  threatened  him  too  openly,  since  the  time  for 
struggle  had  not  yet  arrived  for  him,  he  left  Florence  and 
went  to  Bugallo,  the  cradle  of  his  race,  to  build  the  con- 
vents of  Bosco  and  St.  Francis ;  returned  under  the  pre- 
text of  having  a  look  at  his  novitiate  chapel  of  the  Fathers 
of  the  Holy  Cross  and  of  the  Camandule  Convent  of  the 
Angels ;  then  again  departed  to  press  forward  the  work  on 
his  villas  of  Careggi,  Caffaggio,  Fiesole  and  Tribbio  ;  and 
founded  a  hospital  for  poor  pilgrims  at  Jerusalem.  This 
being  done,  he  returned  to  see  in  what  condition  the  affairs 
of  the  republic  were,  and  to  look  after  his  palace  of  the 
Via  Larga. 

And  all  these  immense  buildings  arose  from  the  ground 
at  once,  occupying  a  whole  world  of  labourers,  workmen 
and  architects ;  and  five  million  crowns  were  spent  upon 
them  without  the  luxurious  citizen's  appearing  in  the  slight- 
est degree  impoverished  by  this  constant  and  royal  expendi- 
ture. 


THE   KICCARDI   PALACE,   ITALY. 


THE  RICCARDI  PALACE  145 

This  was  because  Cosmo  was,  in  fact,  wealthier  than  many 
of  the  kings  of  the  day,  his  father  Giovanni  had  possessed 
nearly  four  millions  in  cash  and  eight  or  ten  in  paper,  and 
by  banking  operations  he  had  more  than  quintupled  that 
sum.  In  various  parts  of  Europe,  he  had  sixteen  active 
banking-houses  either  in  his  own  name  or  in  those  of  his 
agents.  In  Florence,  everybody  was  in  his  debt,  for  his 
purse  was  open  to  all,  and  this  generosity  was  in  some 
people's  eyes  so  clearly  the  result  of  calculation  that  it  was 
asserted  that  it  was  his  custom  to  advise  war  so  as  to  force 
the  ruined  citizens  to  have  recourse  to  him. 

But  it  was  a  protracted  struggle :  Cosmo,  driven  from 
Florence,  left  as  a  proscribed  man  and  returned  a  triumpher. 
Thenceforward  Cosmo  adopted  that  policy  that  his  grandson 
Lorenzo  followed  afterwards :  he  devoted  himself  to  his 
commerce,  his  exchanges  and  his  monuments,  leaving  his 
vengeance  to  the  care  of  his  partisans  who  were  then  in 
power.  The  proscriptions  were  so  long  and  the  executions 
so  numerous  that  one  of  his  most  intimate  and  faithful 
friends  thought  he  ought  to  go  and  tell  him  that  he  was  de- 
populating the  city.  Cosmo  raised  his  eyes  from  an  ex- 
change calculation  on  which  he  was  engaged,  laid  his  hand 
on  the  shoulder  of  the  messenger  of  mercy,  gazed  at  him 
fixedly  and  said  with  an  imperceptible  smile  :  "  I  would 
rather  depopulate  than  lose  it."  And  then  the  inflexible 
arithmetician  returned  to  his  work. 

Thus  he  grew  old  ;  rich  and  honoured,  but  struck  by  the 
hand  of  God  within  his  own  family.  By  his  wife  he  had 
had  several  children,  only  one  of  whom  survived  him. 


I4.6  THE  RICCARDI  PALACE 

Therefore,  broken  down  and  impotent,  when  he  had  him- 
self carried  through  the  vast  halls  of  his  immense  palace  to 
inspect  the  sculptures,  gilding,  and  frescoes,  he  sadly  shook 
his  head  and  said  :  "  Alas !  alas  !  this  is  a  very  large  house 
for  such  a  small  family  !  " 

In  fact,  he  left,  as  sole  heir  to  his  name,  his  possessions, 
and  his  power,  Pietro  de'Medici,  who,  coming  between 
Cosmo  the  Father  of  his  Country  and  Lorenzo  the  Magni- 
ficent, obtained  as  his  only  surname  that  of  Pietro  the  Gouty. 

The  refuge  of  the  Greek  savants  driven  from  Constanti- 
nople, the  cradle  of  the  renaissance  of  the  arts  during  the 
Fourteenth  and  the  Fifteenth  Century,  and  now  the  seat  of 
the  meetings  of  the  Delia  Crusca  Academy,  the  Riccardi 
Palace  was  successively  occupied  by  Pietro  the  Gouty  and 
by  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent  who  retired  thither  after  the 
Pazzi  conspiracy  as  his  grandfather  had  done  after  his  exile. 
Lorenzo  bequeathed  the  palace  with  his  immense  collection 
of  precious  stones,  antique  cameos,  splendid  armour  and 
original  manuscripts  to  his  son  Pietro  who  deserved  the 
title  not  of  Pietro  the  Gouty,  but  Pietro  the  Mad. 

It  was  the  latter  who  opened  the  gates  of  Florence  to 
Charles  VIII.  and  delivered  to  him  the  keys  of  Sarzane, 
Pietra-Santa,  Pisa,  Libra-Fatta,  and  Livorno,  and  who  un- 
dertook to  make  the  Republic  pay  him  as  a  subsidy  the  sum 
of  two  hundred  thousand  florins. 

Besides  this,  in  his  palace  of  Via  Larga  he  offered  a  hos- 
pitality that  the  King  of  France  was  quite  disposed  to  take 
even  if  it  had  not  been  offered.  In  fact,  as  everybody 
knows,  Charles  VIII.  entered  Florence  as  a  conqueror  and 


THE  RICCARDI  PALACE  147 

not  as  an  ally,  mounted  on  his  battle-horse,  with  lance  in 
rest  and  visor  lowered  :  thus  he  traversed  the  whole  city 
from  the  San  Friano  gate  to  Pietro's  palace,  the  latter  and 
his  followers  having  been  driven  from  the  city  by  the  Flor- 
entine lords  the  day  before. 

The  Riccardi  Palace  was  the  scene  of  the  discussion  of 
the  treaty  concluded  by  Charles  VIII.  and  Pietro  in  the 
name  of  the  republic,  —  a  treaty  that  the  republic  was 
unwilling  to  recognize.  Matters  went  to  extremes  and  the 
parties  were  on  the  verge  of  taking  up  arms,  for  the  depu- 
ties having  been  introduced  into  this  great  hall  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Charles  VIII.  who  received  them  seated  and  with- 
out removing  his  hat,  the  royal  secretary,  standing  beside 
the  throne,  began  to  read  the  conditions  of  this  treaty 
article  by  article,  and  as  each  new  article  created  fresh  dis- 
cussion, Charles  VIII.  impatiently  exclaimed  :  "  It  shall  be 
so,  however,  or  I  will  have  my  trumpets  sounded  !  " 
"  Very  well,"  replied  Pietro  Capponi,  the  Secretary  of  the 
Republic,  snatching  the  parchment  from  the  hands  of  the 
reader  and  tearing  it  to  pieces,  "  very  well,  Sire,  have  your 
trumpets  sounded  and  we  will  have  our  bells  rung  !  " 

That  rejoinder  saved  Florence.  The  King  of  France 
believed  that  the  Republic  was  as  powerful  as  she  was 
proud.  Pietro  Capponi  had  already  dashed  out  of  the 
room :  Charles  had  him  called  back  and  then  presented 
other  conditions  that  were  accepted. 

Eleven  days  later,  the  King  left  Florence  for  Naples,  let- 
ting his  soldiers  devastate  treasures,  galleries,  collections 
and  libraries. 


148  THE  RICCARDI  PALACE 

The  Riccardi  Palace  remained  empty  for  eighteen  years, 
while  the  exile  of  the  Medicis  lasted  ;  at  length,  at  the 
end  of  that  period,  they  returned,  brought  back  by  the 
Spaniards,  and  notwithstanding  this  powerful  aid,  they  re- 
entered,  said  the  capitulation,  not  as  princes,  but  as  simple 
citizens. 

But  at  length  the  gigantic  trunk  had  put  forth  such 
mighty  branches  that  its  sap  began  to  dry  up  and  the  tree 
gradually  to  wither.  In  fact,  when  Lorenzo  II.  was  dead 
and  laid  in  his  tomb  that  was  sculptured  by  Michelangelo, 
only  three  bastards  remained  of  all  the  race  of  Cosmo  the 
Elder:  Hippolyte,  bastard  of  Julian  II.,  a  cardinal; 
Julio,  bastard  of  Julio  the  Elder  who  had  been  assassinated 
by  the  Pazzi,  who  became  Pope  under  the  name  of 
Clement  VII. ;  and  finally  Alexander,  Duke  of  Tuscany, 
bastard  of  Julian  II.,  or  Clement  VII.,  it  is  not  clear  which. 
As  they  stayed  all  once  for  an  instant  in  Florence,  lodging 
on  the  same  square,  it  received  the  mocking  name  of  the 
Square  of  the  Three  Mules. 

To  the  same  degree  that  the  Medicis  of  the  elder  branch 
had  at  first  been  held  in  honour,  so  it  had  become  execrated 
and  fallen  into  contempt  at  this  period.  Therefore  the 
Florentines  only  awaited  an  opportunity  to  drive  Alexander 
and  Hippolyte  out  of  Florence;  but  their  uncle  Clement 
VII.  on  the  pontifical  throne  afforded  them  too  potent  a 
support  for  the  last  remnants  of  the  republican  party  to 
dare  to  undertake  anything  against  them. 

The  sack  of  Rome  by  the  soldiers  of  the  Constable  of 
Bourbon,  and  the  imprisonment  of  the  Pope  in  the  Castle 


THE  RICCARDI  PALACE 


149 


of  St.  Angelo  afforded  the  Florentines  the  opportunity 
they  awaited.  They  immediately  seized  it,  and  the 
Medicis  went  into  exile  for  the  third  time.  Clement  VII. 
who  was  a  man  of  much  resource,  extricated  himself  from 
the  affair  by  selling  seven  cardinals'  hats,  with  the  proceeds 
of  which  he  paid  part  of  his  ransom,  and  by  pledging  five 
more  as  guarantee  for  the  remainder.  Then,  as  on  ac- 
count of  this  guarantee  he  was  allowed  a  little  more  liberty, 
he  took  advantage  of  it  to  escape  from  Rome  disguised  as 
a  valet,  and  gained  Orvieto.  The  Florentines  were  there- 
fore quite  tranquil  as  to  the  future  on  seeing  Charles  the 
Fifth  a  conqueror  and  the  Pope  a  fugitive. 

Unfortunately,  Charles  the  Fifth  had  been  elected  Em- 
peror in  1519,  and  he  needed  to  be  crowned.  Interest  thus 
brought  together  those  whom  it  had  separated.  Clement 
VII.  undertook  to  crown  Charles  the  Fifth;  and  the 
latter  promised  to  capture  Florence  and  to  make  it  the 
dowry  of  his  natural  daughter,  Margaret  of  Austria,  who 
was  affianced  to  Alexander. 

The  two  promises  were  religiously  kept.  Charles  the 
Fifth  was  crowned  at  Bologna,  for  in  his  new  tenderness 
for  the  Pope  he  did  not  want  to  see  the  ravage  done  by  his 
troops  in  the  holy  city ;  and  after  a  terrible  siege  in  which 
Florence  was  defended  by  Michelangelo  and  capitulated  by 
Malatesta,  July  30,  1531,  Alexander  made  his  solemn 
entry  into  the  future  capital  of  his  duchy. 

Alexander  had  almost  all  the  vices  of  his  epoch  and  very 
few  of  the  virtues  of  his  race.  The  son  of  a  Moorish 
woman,  he  had  inherited  ardent  passions.  Constant  in 


J50 


THE  RICCARDI  PALACE 


hatred  and  inconstant  in  love,  he  tried  to  have  Pietro 
Strozzi  assassinated  and  caused  his  cousin,  Cardinal  Hip- 
polyte  to  be  poisoned. 

Therefore,  there  were  numerous  conspiracies  against  him 
during  his  reign  of  six  years. 

Pietro  £trozzi  placed  an  immense  sum  in  the  hands  of  a 
Dominican  friar  of  Naples,  who  was  said  to  have  great  in- 
fluence with  Charles  the  Fifth,  to  induce  him  to  get  Charles 
the  Fifth  to  restore  liberty  to  Florence.  Jean  Baptiste 
Cibo,  Archbishop  of  Marseilles,  tried  to  profit  from  Alex- 
ander's amour  with  his  brother's  wife,  who  was  separated 
from  her  husband  and  lived  in  the  Pazzi  palace,  by  having 
him  slain  one  day  when  he  should  come  to  see  her  in  that 
palace ;  and  since  he  knew  that  Alexander  usually  wore 
beneath  his  clothes  a  coat  of  mail  so  marvellously  made 
that  it  was  proof  against  sword  and  dagger,  he  had  a  chest, 
upon  which  the  duke  was  accustomed  to  sit  when  he  came 
to  visit  the  marquise,  filled  with  powder,  and  this  was  to  be 
exploded.  But  this  conspiracy  was  discovered,  as  well  as 
all  others  that  followed  with  one  exception.  In  the  latter 
case,  success  was  due  to  the  fact  that  there  was  only  one 
conspirator  who  accomplished  everything  for  himself.  That 
conspirator  was  Lorenzo  de'Medici,  the  eldest  scion  of  that 
younger  branch  that  sprang  from  the  paternal  trunk  with 
Lorenzo,  the  next  brother  of  Cosmo  the  Father  of  his  country. 

Lorenzo  was  born  in  Florence,  March  25,  1514,  of 
Pietro  Francisco  de'Medici,  a  double  nephew  of  Lorenzo, 
Cosmo's  brother,  and  Maria  Soderini,  a  woman  of  exem- 
plary goodness  and  recognized  prudence. 


THE  RICCARDI  PALACE  151 

Lorenzo  lost  his  father  early,  and,  as  he  was  scarcely 
nine  years  of  age,  his  first  instruction  was  given  under 
his  mother's  supervision.  But  as  the  child  learned  with 
great  facility,  this  education  was  very  soon  ended,  and  he 
left  this  female  tutelage  for  that  of  Philippe  Strozzi,  where 
his  strange  character  developed.  He  was  a  strange  med- 
ley of  mockery,  restlessness,  desire,  suspicion,  impiety,  hu- 
mility and  pride ;  whence  it  resulted  that,  unless  he  had 
motives  to  conceal,  his  most  intimate  friends  never  saw 
him  twice  in  the  same  mood.  He  was  one  of  those  her- 
maphrodite beings  that  capricious  Nature  produces  in  her 
periods  of  dissolution. 

It  was  in  a  house  adjoining  the  Riccardi  Palace  that  Lo- 
renzo, aided  by  the  Spadassin  Scoronconcolo,  poniarded 
Duke  Alexander,  the  natural  brother  of  Catherine  de'Med- 
ici,  first  Duke  of  Florence  and  last  descendant  of 
Cosmo  the  Father  of  the  Country,  for  Pope  Clement 
VII.  had  died  in  1534  and  Cardinal  Hippolyte  in  1535; 
and  on  his  assassination  a-  singular  thing  was  noticed, 
namely  the  six-fold  combination  of  the  number  six. 
Alexander  was  assassinated  in  the  year  1536,  at  the  age 
of  twenty-six,  on  the  6th  day  of  January,  at  six  o'clock 
at  night,  with  six  wounds,  after  having  reigned  six  years. 

The  house  in  which  he  was  assassinated  was  situated 
on  the  spot  where  the  stables  now  stand. 

The  proverb  of  the  evangelist :  "  They  that  take  the 
sword  shall  perish  with  the  sword "  was  applied  to  Lo- 
renzo in  its  rigorous  exactitude.  Lorenzo,  who  had  slain 
with  the  poignard,  died  by  the  poignard  in  Venice  about 


152 


THE  RICCARDI  PALACE 


the  year  1557  without  any  one  knowing  for  certain  what 
hand  struck  the  blow ;  it  was  only  remembered  that  when 
Cosmo  the  First  mounted  the  throne  he  swore  not  to 
leave  the  murder  of  Duke  Alexander  unpunished. 

The  murderer  of  Alexander  was  the  last  important  event 
that  happened  in  this  beautiful  palace.  Abandoned  by 
Cosmo  I.  in  1540,  when  he  resolved  to  live  in  the  Pa- 
lazzo Vecchio,  it  was  sold  to  the  Riccardi  family,  whose 
name  it  has  kept,  although  I  believe  it  came  again  into 
the  possession  of  the  Medicis  under  the  reign  of  Ferdi- 
nand II. 

To-day  the  famous  Delia  Crusca  Academy  holds  its 
sessions  there :  there  they  sift  adverbs  and  shell  parti- 
ciples, as  our  good  and  witty  Charles  Nodier  says. 

It  is  not  so  poetic,  but  it  is  more  moral. 


RABY  CASTLE 

WILLIAM    HOWITT 

AS  we  proceed  towards  Barnard  Castle,  we  suddenly 
come  into  view  of  the  Castle  of  Raby.  The  road 
brings  us  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  it.  Its  grey  ex- 
tent of  towers  rises  before  us,  with  its  park,  well  peopled 
with  herds  of  deer,  stretching  around  it.  Comparatively 
flat  again  as  is  the  situation,  and  which  would  seem  to 
have  been  better  liked  by  the  Nevilles  than  more  hilly 
and  romantic  ones,  there  is  nothing  that  we  recollect  to 
have  seen  anywhere  which  impresses  us  at  the  first  view 
with  a  stronger  feeling  of  the  old  feudal  grandeur.  It 
stands  in  its  antiquity  and  vastness,  the  fitting  abode  of 
the  mighty  Nevilles.  We  can  almost  imagine  that  we 
shall  find  them  still  inhabiting  it.  The  royal  Joan,  walk- 
ing with  her  maidens  on  the  green  terrace  that  surrounds 
it,  or  the  first  great  Earl  of  Westmoreland  setting  out 
with  all  his  train,  to  scour  its  wide  chases  and  dales  for 
the  deer,  or  to  proceed  to  the  Marches  to  chastise  the 
boldness  of  the  Scots.  The  exterior  of  the  whole  place 
has  been  well  preserved  in  its  true  ancient  character ;  it 
is  the  great,  grey,  and  stately  feudal  castle, 

"  With  all  its  lands  and  towers." 

Pennant,  when  he  visited  it,  had  a  proper  feeling  of  its 
exterior.     "It  is  a  noble  massy  building  of  its  kind,  unin- 


I54  RABY    CASTLE 

jured  by  any  modern  strokes  inconsistent  with  the  general 
taste  of  the  edifice  ;  but,  simply  magnificent,  it  strikes  by 
its  magnitude,  and  that  idea  of  strength  and  command  nat- 
urally annexed  to  the  view  of  vast  walls,  lofty  towers,  battle- 
ments, and  the  surrounding  outworks  of  an  old  baron's  resi- 
dence. The  building  itself,  besides  the  courts,  covers  an 
acre  of  land  ;  the  size  may  from  this  be  concluded.  The 
south  front  is  very  beautiful ;  the  centre  is  from  a  design  of 
Inigo  Jones ;  nothing  in  the  Gothic  taste  can  be  more  ele- 
gant than  the  style  and  proportion  of  the  windows.  The 
rooms  are  very  numerous,  and  more  modern  in  their  pro- 
portion and  distribution  than  one  would  easily  conceive  to 
be  possible  within  the  walls  of  so  ancient  a  building ;  but 
by  means  of  numerous  passages  and  closets,  many  of  which 
have  been  scooped  out  of  the  walls,  and  back-stairs,  the 
apartments  are  extremely  convenient,  well  connected,  and 
at  the  same  time  perfectly  distinct.  Several  improvements 
have  been  lately  made,  which  add  greatly  to  the  spacious- 
ness and  convenience  of  the  apartments  in  general.  The 
bed-chambers  and  dressing-rooms  are  of  a  good  size  and 
proportion,  and  some  of  the  lower  apartments  large,  and 
elegantly  fitted  up.  One  of  the  drawing-rooms  is  thirty 
feet  by  twenty,  and  the  adjoining  dining-room  is  fifty-one 
by  twenty-one;  the  windows  of  both  of  plate  glass,  and  in 
the  smallest  and  lightest  of  brass  frames,"  etc. 

It  is,  in  fact,  this  complete  adaptation  to  modern  uses  and 
splendour,  which  disappoints  one  in  the  interior  of  Raby. 
The  exterior  is  so  fine,  so  feudal,  so  antiquely  great,  that 
when  we  step  in  and  find  ourselves  at  once  in  modern 


RABY   CASTLE  155 

drawing-rooms,  with  silken  couches  and  gilt  cornices,  the 
Nevilles  and  their  times  vanish.  We  forget  again  that  we 
are  at  Raby,  the  Castle  of  the  victims  of  Neville's  Cross,  and 
of  Joan,  the  daughter  of  John  of  Gaunt,  and  feel  that  we 
are  only  in  the  saloons  of  the  modern  Duke  of  Cleveland. 
We  revert  to  the  quaint  description  of  Leland,  and  wish  that 
we  could  see  it  as  he  did.  "  Raby  is  the  largest  castel  of 
logginges  in  all  the  north  countery,  and  is  of  a  strong  build- 
ing ;  but  not  set  either  on  hill,  or  very  strong  ground.  As 
I  enterid  by  a  causey  into  it,  there  was  a  litle  stayre  on  the 
right  honde  ;  and  in  the  first  area,  were  but  two  towers  on  a 
ech  ende  as  entres,  and  no  other  buildid.  In  the  2  area,  as 
in  entring  was  a  great  gate  of  iren,  with  a  tour,  and  2  or  3 
mo  on  the  right  hond.  These  were  all  the  three  toures  of 
the  3  court,  as  in  the  hart  of  the  castel.  The  haul  and  al  the 
houses  of  office  be  large  and  stately,  and  in  the  haul  I  saw  an 
incredible  great  leame  of  an  hart.  The  great  chambre  was 
exceeding  large,  but  now  it  is  fals  rofid,  and  divided  into  2 
or  3  partes.  I  saw  ther  a  litle  chambre  wherein  was  in 
windowes  of  colorid  glasse  al  the  petigre  of  the  Nevilles ; 
but  it  is  now  taken  down  and  glasid  with  clere  glasse.  Ther 
is  a  tour  in  the  castel  having  the  mark  of  2  capital  Bs  for 
Bertram  Bulmer.  Ther  is  another  towr  bering  the  name 
of  Jane,  bastard  sister  to  Henry  IV.,  and  wife  to  Rafe  Neville, 
the  first  Erl  of  Westmerland.  Ther  'long  3  parkes  to  Raby, 
whereof  2  be  plenished  with  dere.  The  midle  park  hath 
a  lodge  in  it ;  and  thereby  is  a  chace,  bering  the  name  of 
Langeley,  and  hath  fallowe  dere.  It  is  a  3  miles  in  length." 
It  is,  in  fact,  these  old  towers ;  these  old  courts ;  this 


i56 


RABY    CASTLE 


great  baronial  hall,  and  the  kitchen,  that  are  objects  of  real 
interest  in  Raby ;  remnants  of  its  antiquity,  the  co- 
temporaries  of  those  who  stamped  them  with  the  feeling  of 
belonging  to  them  and  their  fortunes.  The  Cliffords' 
tower,  and  the  tower  of  Bertram  Bulmer,  let  us  ascend  to 
them,  and  gaze  over  the  parks  and  glades  of  Raby,  to  the 
far  distant  scenes  that  once  formed  the  princely  posses- 
sions of  the  Nevilles.  Near  the  top  of  this  tower,  which 
stands  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  building,  and  to  which 
you  ascend  by  eighty-nine  steps,  are  raised  those  old  letters, 
the  initials  of  Bertram  Bulmer,  mentioned  by  Leland,  and  a 
splendid  prospect  south  eastward  lies  before  you.  Conscliff, 
Darlington,  Sadberge,  Long-Newton,  Stockton,  with  the 
Cleveland  Hills  and  "  Black "  Hamilton.  From  other 
points  of  the  castle  you  catch  equally  noble  and  far  views — 
the  distant  mountains  of  Hope  and  Arkendale,  and  west- 
ward the  vale  filled  with  the  woods  of  Streatlam  and  Lady 
Close. 

Carriages  can  pass  through  the  large  Gothic  saloon,  or 
entrance  hall  into  the  interior  court.  Above  the  saloon  is 
the  old  baronial  hall,  which  forms  one  side  of  the  square  of 
the  inner  area.  It  is  of  the  most  magnificent  proportions 
— ninety  feet  in  length,  thirty-six  in  breadth,  and  thirty-four 
in  height.  The  roof  is  flat  and  made  of  wood  ;  the  joints 
ornamented  with  shields  of  arms  of  the  family  of  the 
Nevilles.  Here,  it  is  said,  assembled  in  their  time,  700 
knights  who  held  of  that  family.  A  gallery  of  stone 
crosses  the  west  end  of  this  room  used  in  ancient  times  for 
music,  and  that  mimicry  with  which  our  ancestors  were  so 


RABY    CASTLE 

much  pleased.  Unfortunately,  here  again  our  notions  of 
the  old  times  are  completely  disturbed.  This  roof,  which 
no  doubt  is  of  real  oak,  is  now  smartly  painted  oak  ;  and 
this  hall,  which  should  only  display  massy  furniture,  suits 
of  armour,  and  arms  and  banners  properly  disposed,  is  con- 
verted into  a  museum  of  stuffed  birds,  Indian  dresses,  and 
a  heap  of  things  which  may  be  better  and  more  numerously 
seen  elsewhere.  In  fact,  any  ordinary  room  of  this  many- 
roomed  castle  might  have  served  this  need.  The  kitchen, 
however,  remains  in  all  its  huge  and  unalloyed  antiquity. 
"  It  is,"  says  Pennant,  "  a  magnificent  and  lofty  square  ; 
has  three  chimneys — one  for  the  grate,  a  second  for  stoves, 
the  third  for  the  great  cauldrons.  The  top  is  arched,  and  a 
small  cupola  lights  it  in  the  centre ;  but  on  the  sides  are  five 
windows,  with  a  gallery  passing  all  round  before  them,  and 
four  steps  from  each  pointing  down  into  the  kitchen,  but  end- 
ing a  great  height  above  the  floor.  There  have  been  many 
conjectures  respecting  their  use,  but  they  certainly  must 
have  been  in  some  manner  for  the  conveying  away  of 
viands.  From  the  floor  is  another  staircase,  that  conducts 
to  the  great  hall,  but  the  passage  is  now  stopped.  What 
hecatombs  must  have  been  carried  that  way  !  "  To  this 
account  must  be  added,  that  the  kitchen  is  a  square  of 
thirty  feet;  the  side  where  no  chimney  is,  opens  into  the 
larders  ;  opposite  to  the  grate,  the  steps  descend  to  the  floor, 
and  are  wide  enough  for  three  persons  abreast.  On  each 
of  the  other  sides,  to  the  right  and  left  of  the  grate,  are  two 
windows,  with  five  steps  descending,  but  not  low  enough  to 
enable  the  persons  who  should  stand  thereon  to  receive 


158  RABY    CASTLE 

anything  from  those  in  the  kitchen.  There  are  narrow 
passages  channeled  in  the  walls,  but  not  capacious  enough, 
we  conceive,  to  allow  a  person  to  bear  a  dish  of  provisions 
for  the  700  knights  and  retainers  of  the  Nevilles.  Yet  we 
may  very  well  imagine,  that  in  the  hurry  and  confusion  of 
such  a  dining,  those  windows  and  descending  steps  might 
be  very  serviceable  for  the  delivery  of  orders,  and  the 
passages  in  the  walls  for  enabling  one  bustling  person  to 
avoid  another.  Besides,  they  might  have  some  contrivance 
by  a  pulley  or  so,  to  raise  the  dishes  to  the  person  on  the 
steps.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  kitchen  is  a  right  ancient  and 
singular  relic  of  the  genuine  baronial  time. 

The  park  has  many  fine  woods,  glades,  and  lawns,  and 
gives  prospects  of  far  beauty,  but  its  aspect  partakes  of  the 
character  of  the  interior  of  the  castle — newness.  We  are 
surprised  to  see  so  little  timber  bearing  a  relative  antiquity 
to  the  castle.  The  trees  are  comparatively  young.  You 
see  groups  and  plantations  of  a  very  modern  date.  The 
whole  has  the  air  rather  of  a  place  new  made,  than  of  one 
old  as  the  days  of  Canute,  who  is  said  to  have  built  some 
part  of  the  original  house.  You  do  not  see  those  old,  grey, 
and  gnarled  oaks  around  you  that  you  see  in  the  forests  of 
Sherwood,  Needwood — Chartley  and  other  parks.  It  seems 
as  if  some  great  revolution,  as  is  the  fact,  has  passed  over 
it ;  and  that  in  its  days  of  change,  the  axe  of  the  spoiler 
has  laid  low  its  ancient  forests.  The  castle  looks  like  a 
grey  patriarch  left  amid  a  more  juvenile  race.  Let  us  re- 
joice that  the  strong  wall  of  the  stout  old  Nevilles  have  de- 
fied the  ravages  of  politics  as  well  as  of  time,  and  that 


RABY    CASTLE  159 

future  generations  may  see  in  them  a  fine  example  of  what 
the  habitation  of  the  great  old  English  noble  was.  For  my 
part,  I  looked  on  the  old  house  with  eyes  of  affection.  It 
had,_through  the  beautiful  ballad  of  the  Hermit  of  Wark- 
worth,  been  to  me  a  dream  of  youthful  poetry.  I  was  car- 
ried back  into  the  days  when  at  school  we  chanted  that 
lovely  poem  over,  day  by  day,  under  sunny  walls  and  in 
our  walks,  and  even  at  night  when  we  should  have  been 
asleep.  There  was  in  it  a  spirit  so  pure,  so  refined,  so  del- 
icate, so  full  of  beauty,  of  love,  and  of  heroic  magnanimity, 
that  it  mingled  itself  entirely  with  the  pulses  of  our  hearts, 
because  our  hearts  were  then  like  it  in  soul,  in  tempera- 
ment, and  in  imaginative  freedom.  What  dales  of  North- 
umberland— what  mountains,  and  glens,  and  chieftains' 
towers  of  Scotland,  did  it  not  bring  to  our  spirits'  vision  ! 
With  what  eagerness  did  we  follow  the  forlorn  Sir  Bertram 
and  his  brother,  in  their  northern  quest  for  the  lost  fair  Isa- 
bel of  Widrington.  How  did  we  weep  over  the  catastrophe  ! 
— and  when  the  young  Earl  Percy  and  his  lovely  bride,  of 
the  house  of  Neville,  appeared  for  our  comfort,  how  ear- 
nestly did  we  follow  the  venerable  prior  who,  to  propitiate 
the  princely  parents  of  Eleanor, 

"  Then  straight  to  Raby's  distant  walls 
Did  kindly  wend  his  way." 

And  how  many  times  did  we  clap  our  hands  as  we  learnt 

that 

"  Meantime  their  suit  such  favour  found 

At  Raby's  stately  hall  ; 
Earl  Neville  and  his  princely  spouse 
Now  gladly  pardon  all. 


l6o  RABY    CASTLE 

She,  suppliant  at  her  nephew's  throne, 

The  royal  grace  implored  ; 
To  all  the  honours  of  his  race 

The  Percy  was  restored  !  " 

Mr.  Surtees  has  written  a  ballad  full  of  the  true  spirit  of  that 
composition,  suggested  by  a  scene  in  Raby  Park — Langley 
Dale;  a  beautiful  dale  and  ancient  chase,  belonging  to  Raby 
Castle.  An  old  tower,  close  by  the  park,  is  said  to  have 
been  the  residence  of  a  mistress  of  the  last  Earl  of  West- 
moreland. Mr.  Surtees's  ballad,  however,  rather  connects 
itself  with  the  general  circumstances  of  "  The  Rising  of  the 
North  "  than  with  this  particular  incident,  and,  like  "  The 
Flowers  of  the  Forest,"  perpetuates  a  natural  and  beautiful 
sentiment,  which  must  have  been  deeply  and  long  felt,  on 
beholding  Raby  after  that  fatal  event.  With  this  poem  we 
will  close  our  visit  to  Raby. 

LANGLEY  DALE. 

As  I  down  Raby  Park  did  pass, 

I  heard  a  fair  maid  weep  and  wail, 
The  chiefest  of  her  song  it  was, 

Farewell  the  sweets  of  Langley  Dale. 

The  bonny  mavis  cheers  his  love, 

The  throstlecock  sings  in  the  glen; 
But  I  must  never  hope  to  rove 

Within  the  sweet  Langley  Dale  again. 

The  wild-rose  blushes  in  the  brae, 

The  primrose  shows  its  blossom  pale  ; 

But  I  must  bid  adieu  for  aye, 

To  all  the  joys  of  Langley  Dale. 


RABY  CASTLE 

The  days  of  mirth  and  peace  are  fled, 
Youth's  golden  locks  to  silver  turn  ; 

Each  northern  flowret  droops  its  head 
By  Marwood  Chase  and  Langley  Burn. 

False  Southrons  crop  each  lovely  flower, 
And  throw  their  blossoms  to  the  gale  ; 

Our  foes  have  spoilt  the  sweetest  bower 

Alas  !  for  bonny  Langley  Dale. 


161 


CASTEL  DEL  MONTE 

EDWARD  LEAR 

TO  the  south,  on  a  spur  of  the  hills  overlooking  the 
maritime  part  of  the  province  of  Basilicata  and 
Capitanata,  stands  Minervino,  and  thither  we  directed  our 
course,  over  undulating  green  meadows  which  descend  to 
the  plain,  and  we  arrived  about  an  hour  before  sunset  at 
the  foot  of  the  height  on  which  the  town  is  situated. 
Minervino  enjoys  a  noble  prospect  northward,  over  the 
level  of  Cannas  to  the  bay  and  mountain  of  Gargano,  at 
which  distance  the  outspread  breadth  of  plain  is  so  beautifully 
delicate  in  its  infinity  of  clear  lines,  as  to  resemble  sea 
more  than  earth.  The  town  is  a  large  clean  and  thriving 
place,  with  several  streets  flanked  by  loggie,  and  altogether  dif- 
ferent in  its  appearance  and  in  its  population  from  Abruzzese 
or  Calabrese  towns.  The  repose,  or  to  speak  more  plainly, 
the  stagnation  of  the  latter,  contrasts  very  decidedly  with 
these  communities  of  Apulia — all  bustle  and  animation — 
where  well-paved  streets,  good  houses,  and  strings  of  laden 
mules,  proclaim  an  advance  in  commercial  civilization. 

We  encountered  in  the  street  Don  Vincenzino  Todeschi, 
who  on  reading  a  letter  of  introduction,  given  to  us  for 
him  by  Signer  Manassei,  seemed  to  consider  our  dwelling 
with  him  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  shaking  hands  with  us 
heartily,  begged  us  to  go  to  his  house  and  use  it  as  our 
own  ;  he  was  busy  then,  but  would  join  us  at  supper.  .  .'  , 


i 

» 


CASTEL  DEL  MONTE  163 

P and  I  are  not  a  little  perplexed  as  to  what  we 

shall  do  to-morrow,  for,  owing  to  time  running  short,  we 
have  but  one  day  left  ere  we  return  towards  Naples. 
Canosa  (ancient  Cannae)  and  Castel  del  Monte,  are  the 
two  points,  either  of  which  we  could  be  content  to  reach, 
but  as  each  demands  a  hard  day's  work,  we  finally  resolve 

to  divide  them,  P choosing  Canosa,  and  I  the  old 

castle  of  Frederick  Barbarossa,  of  which  I  had  heard  so 
much  as  one  of  the  wonders  of  Apulia. 

September  23. — Before  daylight  each  of  us  set  off  on  his 

separate  journey  on  horseback, — P with  the  bulky 

Don  Sebastiano  to  Canosa,  I  to  the  Castel  del  Monte,  with 
a  guardiano  of  Don  Vincenzino's  family.  Oh  me  !  what  a 
day  of  fatigue  and  tiresome  labour !  Almost  immediately 
on  leaving  Minervino  we  came  to  the  dullest  possible 
country, — elevated  stony  plains — weariest  of  barren  undu- 
lations stretching  in  unbroken  ugliness  towards  Altamura 
and  Gravina.  Much  of  this  hideous  tract  is  ploughed 
earth,  and  here  and  there  we  encountered  a  farm  house 
with  its  fountain  :  no  distant  prospect  ever  relieves  these 
dismal  shrubless  Murgie  (for  so  is  this  part  of  the  province 
of  Bari  called),  and  flights  of  "  calendroni,"  with  a  few 
skylarks  above,  and  scattered  crocuses  below,  alone  vary 
the  sameness  of  the  journey.  At  length,  after  nearly  five 
hours  of  slow  riding,  we  came  in  sight  of  the  castle,  which 
was  the  object  of  my  journey ;  it  is  built  at  the  edge  of 
these  plains  on  one  of  the  highest,  but  gradually  rising 
eminences,  and  looks  over  a  prospect  perfectly  amazing  as  to 
its  immense  extent  and  singular  character.  One  vast  pale 


164  CASTEL  DEL  MONTE 

pink  map,  stretching  to  Monte  Gargano,  and  the  plains  of 
Foggia,  northward  is  at  your  feet ;  southward,  Terra  di 
Bari,  and  Terra  di  Otranto,  fade  into  the  horizon ;  and 
eastward,  the  boundary  of  this  extensive  level  is  always  the 
blue  Adriatic,  along  which,  or  near  its  shore,  you  see,  as  in 
a  chart,  all  the  maritime  towns  of  Puglia  in  succession, 
from  Barletta  southward  towards  Brindisi. 

The  barren  stony  hill  from  which  you  behold  all  this  ex- 
traordinary outspread  of  plain,  has  upon  it  one  solitary  and 
remarkable  building,  the  great  hunting  palace,  called  Castel 
del  Monte,  erected  in  the  Twelfth  Century  by  the 
Emperor  Barbarossa,  or  Frederick  II.  Its  attractions  at 
first  sight  are  those  of  position  and  singularity  of  form, 
which  is  that  of  an  octagon,  with  a  tower  on  each  of  the 
eight  corners.  But  to  an  architect,  the  beautiful  masonry 
and  exquisite  detail  of  the  edifice  (although  it  was  never 
completed,  and  has  been  robbed  of  its  fine  carved-work  for 
the  purpose  of  ornamenting  churches  on  the  plain),  render 
it  an  object  of  the  highest  curiosity  and  interest. 

The  interior  of  this  ancient  building  is  also  extremely 
striking;  the  inner  court-yard  and  great  Gothic  Hall,  in- 
vested with  the  sombre  mystery  of  partial  decay,  the  eight 
rooms  above,  the  numerous  windows,  all  would  repay  a 
long  visit  from  any  one  to  whom  the  details  of  such 
architecture  are  desiderata. 

Confining  myself  to  making  drawings  of  the  general 
appearance  of  this  celebrated  castle,  I  had  hardly  time  to 
complete  two  careful  sketches  of  it,  when  the  day  was  so 
far  advanced  that  my  guardiano  recommended  a  speedy  re- 


CASTEL  DEL  MONTE  165 

turn,  and  by  the  time  I  had  overcome  the  five  hours  of 
stony  "  murgie  "  I  confess  to  having  thought  that  any  thing 
less  interesting  than  Castel  del  Monte  would  hardly  have 
compensated  for  the  day's  labour.  I  reached  Minervino  at 

one  hour  of  the  night,  and  found  P just  arrived  from 

his  giro  to  Canosa. 

While  riding  over  the  Murgie,  slowly  pacing  over  those 
stony  hills,  my  guide  indulged  me  with  a  legend  of  the  old 
castle,  which  is  worth  recording,  be  it  authentic  or  im- 
aginary. The  Emperor  Frederick  II.,  having  resolved  to 
build  the  magnificent  residence  on  the  site  it  now  occupies, 
employed  one  of  the  first  architects  of  the  day  to  erect  it; 
and  during  its  progress  despatched  one  of  his  courtiers  to 
inspect  the  work,  and  to  bring  him  a  report  of  its  character 
and  appearance.  The  courtier  set  out;  but  on  passing 
through  Melfi,  halted  to  rest  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  where 
he  became  enamoured  of  a  beautiful  damesel,  whose  eyes 
caused  him  to  forget  Castel  del  Monte  and  his  sovereign, 
and  induced  him  to  linger  in  the  Norman  city  until  a  mes- 
senger arrived  there  charged  by  the  Emperor  to  bring  him 
immediately  to  the  Court,  then  at  Naples.  At  that  period 
it  was  by  no  means  probable  that  Barbarossa,  engaged  in 
different  warlike  schemes,  would  ever  have  leisure  to  visit 
his  new  castle,  and  the  courtier,  fearful  of  delay,  resolved  to 
hurry  into  the  presence  and  risk  a  description  of  the  build- 
ing which  he  had  not  seen,  rather  than  confess  his  neglect 
of  duty.  Accordingly  he  denounced  the  commencement 
of  the  Castel  del  Monte  as  a  total  failure,  both  as  to  beauty 
and  utility,  and  the  architect  as  an  impostor;  on  hearing 


!66  CASTEL  DEL  MONTE 

which  the  Emperor  sent  immediately  to  the  unfortunate 
builder,  the  messenger  carrying  an  order  for  his  disgrace, 
and  a  requisition  for  his  instant  appearance  in  the  capital. 
u  Suffer  me  to  take  leave  of  my  wife  and  children,"  said  the 
despairing  architect,  and  shutting  himself  in  one  of  the 
upper  rooms,  he  forthwith  destroyed  his  whole  family  and 
himself,  rather  than  fall  into  the  hands  of  a  monarch  notori- 
ous for  his  severity. 

The  tidings  of  this  event  was,  however,  brought  to  the 
Emperor's  ears,  and  with  characteristic  impetuosity,  he  set 
off  for  Apulia  directly,  taking  with  him  the  first  courtier- 
messenger,  doubtless  sufficiently  ill  at  ease,  from  antici- 
pations of  the  results  about  to  follow  his  duplicity.  What 
was  Barbarossa's  indignation  at  beholding  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  buildings  doomed,  through  the  falsehood  of  his 
messenger,  to  remain  incomplete,  and  polluted  by  the  blood 
of  his  most  skilful  subject,  and  that  of  his  innocent  family  ! 

Foaming  with  rage,  he  dragged  the  offender  by  the  hair 
of  his  head  to  the  top  of  the  highest  tower,  and  with  his  own 
hands  threw  him  down  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  memory  of  the 
architect  and  his  family,  so  cruelly  and  wantonly  destroyed. 

September  24.. — Having  risen  before  sunrise,  the  energetic 
and  practical  Don  Vincenzino  gave  us  coffee  by  the  aid  of 
a  spirit  lamp,  and  we  passed  some  hours  in  drawing  the 
town  of  Minervino,  the  sparkling  lights  and  delicate  grey 
tints  of  whose  buildings  blended  charmingly  with  the  vast 
pale  rosy  plains  of  Apulia  in  the  far  distance.  At  nine  we 
returned  to  a  substantial  dejeuner,  and  at  half-past  ten  took 
leave  of  our  thoroughly  hospitable  and  good-natured  host. 


CASTEL  DEL  MONTE 

HENRY  SWINBURNE 

A  MOST  disagreeable  stony  road  brought  us  to  Ruvo, 
through  a  vine  country.  The  pomegranate  hedges 
in  flower,  and  the  holme  oak  loaded  with  kermes,  enlivened 
the  prospect,  which  otherwise  would  have  been  very  dull. 
.  .  .  I  here  quitted  the  Roman  way,  and  rode  fifteen  miles 
westward  to  Castel  del  Monte.  The  country  I  traversed 
is  open,  uneven  and  dry.  The  castle  is  a  landmark,  and 
stands  on  the  brow  of  a  very  high  hill,  the  extremity  of  a 
ridge  that  branches  out  from  the  Apennine.  The  ascent  to 
it  is  near  half  a  mile  long,  and  very  steep;  the  view  from 
its  terrace  most  extensive.  A  vast  reach  of  sea  and  plain  on 
one  side,  and  mountains  on  the  other;  not  a  city  in  the 
province  but  is  distinguishable ;  yet  the  barrenness  of  the 
foreground  takes  off  a  great  deal  of  the  beauty  of  the  picture. 
The  building  is  octangular,  in  a  plain  solid  style;  the  walls 
are  raised  with  reddish  and  white  stones,  ten  feet  six  inches 
thick ;  the  great  gate  is  of  marble,  cut  into  very  intricate 
ornaments,  after  the  manner  of  the  Arabians;  on  the 
balustrade  of  the  steps  lie  two  enormous  lions  of  marble, 
their  bushy  manes  nicely,  though  barbarously,  expressed ; 
the  court,  which  is  in  the  centre  of  the  edifice,  contains  an 
octangular  marble  bason  of  a  surprising  diameter.  To 
carry  it  to  the  summit  of  such  a  hill  must  have  cost  an 


1 68  CASTLE  DEL  MONTE 

infinite  deal  of  labour.  Two  hundred  steps  lead  up  to  the 
top  of  the  castle,  which  consists  of  two  stories.  In  each 
of  them  are  fifteen  saloons  of  great  dimensions,  cased 
throughout  with  various  and  valuable  marbles ;  the  ceilings 
are  supported  by  triple  clustered  columns  of  a  single  block 
of  white  marble,  the  capitals  extremely  simple.  Various 
have  been  the  opinions  concerning  the  founder  of  this 
castle ;  but  the  best  grounded  ascribe  it  to  Frederick  of 
Swabia.  I  dined  and  spent  the  hot  hours  with  great  com- 
fort under  the  porch,  which  commands  a  noble  view  of  the 
Adriatic. 

In  the  evening  I  descended  the  mountain,  and  rode  nine 
miles  to  Andria,  a  large  feudal  city,  east  of  the  Roman 
road. 


THE  GENERALIFE 

THEOPHILE  GAUTIER 

THE  GENERALIFE  is  situated  not  far  from  the  Al- 
hambra  on  a  spur  of  the  same  mountain.  You  get 
to  it  by  a  kind  of  dug  out  road  that  traverses  the  ravine  of 
Los  Molinos,  which  is  bordered  all  the  way  with  fig-trees 
of  enormous  glistening  leaves,  green  oaks,  pistachio-trees, 
laurels,  and  rock  roses  of  a  remarkably  exuberant  vegeta- 
tion. The  ground  on  which  you  walk  is  composed  of  yel- 
low sand  oozing  with  water,  wonderful  in  its  fecundity. 
Nothing  is  more  delightful  than  to  follow  this  road,  which 
has  the  appearance  of  running  through  a  virgin  forest  of 
America,  so  thickly  is  it  choked  with  foliage  and  flowers, 
and  so  great  is  the  overwhelming  scent  of  the  aromatic 
plants  you  inhale  there.  Vines  spring  through  the  cracks 
of  the  broken  walls,  and  hang  from  all  their  branches  fan- 
tastic tendrils  and  leaves  resembling  the  tracery  of  Arabian 
ornaments  ;  the  aloe  opens  its  fan  of  bluish  blades  and  the 
orange  trees  twist  their  knotty  trunks  and  cling  with  fang- 
like  roots  to  the  rents  in  the  steep  slopes.  Everything  flour- 
ishes and  blooms  in  a  tangled  disorder  full  of  the  most 
charming  effects  of  chance.  A  straying  branch  of  jasmin 
mingles  its  white  stars  with  the  scarlet  flowers  of  the  pome- 
granate, and  a  laurel  leaps  from  one  side  of  the  road  to  the 
other  to  embrace  a  cactus,  notwithstanding  its  thorns. 


THE  GENERALIFE 

Nature,  left  to  herself,  seems  to  take  pride  in  her  coquetry, 
and  wishes  to  show  how  far  she  surpasses  even  the  most 
exquisite  and  finished  art. 

After  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  walk,  you  come  to  the  Gen- 
eralife,  which  is,  in  some  sense,  nothing  but  the  casa  de 
campo^  the  country  house,  of  the  Alhambra.  The  exterior, 
like  that  of  all  oriental  buildings,  is  very  simple  :  it  consists 
of  large  walls  without  windows  and  surmounted  by  a  ter- 
race with  a  gallery  divided  into  arcades,  the  whole  being 
crowned  with  a  little  modern  belvedere.  Of  the  Generalife 
nothing  now  remains  but  some  arcades  and  some  large 
panels  of  arabesques,  unfortunately  plastered  over  with 
layers  of  whitewash  that  have  been  applied  again  and  again 
with  all  the  obstinacy  of  a  dispiriting  cleanliness.  Little  by 
little  the  delicate  sculptures  and  the  marvellous  guilloches  of 
this  fairy-like  architecture  have  been  obliterated,  filled  up, 
and  engulfed.  What  is  at  present  nothing  more  than  a 
faintly-vermiculated  wall,  was  formerly  open  lace-work  as 
fine  as  those  ivory  leaves  which  the  patience  of  the  Chinese 
carves  for  fans.  The  brush  of  the  whitewasher  has  caused 
more  chefs  tfoeuvre  to  disappear  than  the  scythe  of  Time,  if 
I  may  be  allowed  to  use  that  superannuated,  mythological 
expression.  In  a  fairly  well  preserved  hall,  you  notice  a 
series  of  smoky  portraits  of  the  kings  of  Spain,  but  these 
have  only  a  chronological  value. 

The  real  charm  of  the  Generalife  consists  in  its  gardens 
and  waters.  A  canal  paved  with  marble  runs  through  the 
whole  length  of  the  enclosure,  and  rolls  its  abundant  and 
rapid  waves  under  a  series  of  leafy  arches,  formed  by  yews 


THE  GENERALIFE  17  I 

curiously  bent  and  clipped.  Orange-trees  and  cypresses  are 
planted  on  each  border ;  it  was  at  the  foot  of  one  of  these 
cypresses,  of  a  prodigious  size,  and  which  dates  from  the 
time  of  the  Moors,  that  the  favourite  of  Boabdil,  if  we 
may  believe  the  legend,  often  proved  that  bolts  and  grilles 
are  but  slight  protectors  of  the  virtue  of  sultanas.  One 
thing,  at  least,  is  certain, — that  the  yew  is  very  large  and 
very  old. 

The  perspective  is  terminated  by  a  porticoed  gallery,  or- 
namented with  fountains  and  marble  columns,  like  the 
Patio  of  Myrtles  in  the  Alhambra.  The  canal  turns  sharply 
and  you  then  enter  other  enclosures  ornamented  with  water- 
works and  whose  walls  still  retain  traces  of  the  frescoes  of 
the  Sixteenth  Century  representing  rustic  architecture  and 
distant  views.  In  the  centre  of  one  of  these  basins  of 
water,  a  gigantic  oleander  of  a  singular  brilliancy  and  incom- 
parable beauty  rises  like  an  immense  basket  of  flowers. 
At  the  time  that  I  saw  it,  it  seemed  like  an  explosion  of 
blossoms,  or  a  bouquet  of  vegetable  fireworks  ;  its  ruddy 
hue  was  so  splendid  and  vigorous, — indeed  almost  clam- 
orous, if  one  may  apply  that  word  to  colours, — as  to  dim 
the  hue  of  the  most  vermilion  rose.  Its  lovely  flowers 
leaped  with  all  the  ardour  of  desire  towards  the  pure  light 
of  the  sky  ;  and  its  noble  leaves,  shaped  expressly  by  nature 
for  a  crown  of  glory  and  sprinkled  by  the  spray  of  the  foun- 
tain, sparkled  in  the  sunshine  like  emeralds.  Never  did 
anything  inspire  me  with  a  higher  sentiment  of  the  beauti- 
ful than  this  rose-bay  of  the  Generalife. 

The  water  is  brought  to  the  gardens  down  a  very  steep 


I72 


THE  GENERALIFE 


inclined  plane,  bordered  by  little  walls,  forming  on  eacli 
side  a  kind  of  parapet,  supporting  canals  hollowed  out  and 
lined  with  large  tiles  through  which  the  water  runs  beneath 
the  open  sky  with  the  gayest  and  liveliest  chatter  in  the 
world.  At  yard  intervals,  well-supplied  water-jets  burst 
forth  from  the  centre  of  little  basins  and  shoot  their  crystal 
aigrettes  into  the  thick  foliage  of  the  groves  of  laurels 
whose  branches  interlace  above  them.  The  mountain 
gushes  with  water  on  every  side ;  at  each  step  a  spring 
starts  out,  and  you  continually  hear  at  your  side  the  mur- 
muring of  some  rivulet  turned  from  its  course,  and  going  to 
supply  a  fountain,  or  to  carry  refreshment  to  the  foot  of 
some  tree.  The  Arabs  have  carried  the  art  of  irrigation  to 
the  highest  degree ;  their  hydraulic-works  attest  the  most 
advanced  state  of  civilization  ;  these  works  still  exist  to- 
day, and  it  is  to  them  that  Grenada  owes  the  reputation  it 
has  of  being  the  Paradise  of  Spain,  and  of  enjoying  eternal 
spring  in  an  African  climate.  An  arm  of  the  Darro  has 
been  turned  out  of  its  course  by  the  Arabs  and  carried  for 
more  than  two  leagues  along  the  hill  of  the  Alhambra. 

From  the  Belvedere  of  the  Generalife  you  can  clearly  see 
the  outline  of  the  Alhambra  with  its  enclosure  of  reddish, 
half-ruined  towers,  and  its  pieces  of  wall  which  rise  and 
fall  with  the  undulations  of  the  mountain.  The  Palace  of 
Charles  V.,  which  is  not  visible  from  the  side  of  the  city, 
stands  out  with  its  square  and  heavy  mass,  gilded  with  a  pale 
reflection  of  sunlight,  upon  the  damask-like  slopes  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada,  whose  white  ridges  are  strongly  notched 
against  the  sky.  The  bell-tower  of  Saint-Marie  lifts  its 


THE  GENERALIFE  173 

Christian  silhouette  above  the  Moorish  battlements.  A 
few  cypresses  thrust  their  sorrowful  leaves  through  the 
crevices  in  the  walls,  .in  the  midst  of  all  this  light  and  azure 
sky,  like  a  melancholy  thought  at  a  joyous  festival.  The 
slopes  of  the  hill  running  down  towards  the  Darro  and  the 
ravine  of  Los  Molinos  disappear  beneath  an  ocean  of  ver- 
dure. It  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  views  that  can  be 
imagined. 

On  the  other  side,  as  if  to  form  a  contrast  with  so  much 
verdure,  there  rises  an  uncultivated,  scorched,  tawny  moun- 
tain with  patches  of  ocre  and  burnt  Sienna  which  is  called 
La  Silla  del  Moro,  on  account  of  some  ruins  of  buildings 

*  O 

upon  its  summit.  It  was  from  here  that  King  Boabdil  used 
to  view  the  Arabian  horsemen  jousting  in  the  Vega  with 
Christian  knights.  The  memory  of  the  Moors  is  still  vivid 
in  Grenada.  You  would  think  that  they  left  the  city  only 
yesterday,  and,  if  we  should  judge  of  them  by  their  traces, 
it  is  a  pity  that  they  ever  left  it  at  all.  What  southern 
Spain  requires  is  African  civilization  and  not  the  civiliza- 
tion of  Europe,  which  is  not  in  sympathy  with  the  heat  of 
the  climate,  or  the  passions  it  inspires. 


CHATEAU  DE  CHENONCEAUX 

JULES  LOISELEUR 

UNLIKE  so  many  other  chateaux  of  Blaissons  and 
Touraine,  Chenonceaux  awakens  only  gay  and 
happy  thoughts.  Chambord  possesses  the  calm  gravity  of 
a  monastery ;  Ambroise  is  a  prison ;  Blois  bears  upon  its 
face  its  blot  of  blood.  All  the  other  retreats  of  the  royal 
Valois  and  all  the  chateaux  of  their  courtiers,  grouped  in 
such  number  upon  the  banks  of  the  Cher,  the  Vienne,  and 
the  Loire — Loches,  Chinon,  Plessis-lez-Tours,  Luynes, 
Saumur,  Brissac, — speak  of  treachery,  perfidy,  revenge, 
conspiracy  and  all  the  wicked  tendencies  of  human  nature. 
Chenonceaux  alone  recalls  only  memories  of  youth,  ele- 
gance, poetry,  and  love.  There  is  no  blood  upon  its  stones. 
The  gentlest  and  the  most  charming  figures  of  the  Sixteenth 
and  Seventeenth  Century,  Diane  de  Poitiers,  Mary  Stuart, 
Gabrielle  and  Franchise  de'Mercoeur  come  in  succession  to 
animate  that  smiling  nature  and  to  reflect  their  fair  faces  in 
its  clear  waters.  Catherine  de  Medicis,  in  passing  through 
this  beautiful  place,  here  dropped  a  little  of  her  cold  and 
imperious  gravity  :  she  has  left  only  the  memory  of  that 
orgy-like  and  splendid  banquet  that  cost  more  than  a  million 
of  our  money,  and  where  Madame  de  Sauve,  half  naked, 
was  the  stewardess. 


CHATEAU  DE  CHENONCEAUX 


'75 


The  widow  of  Henri  III.,  promenading  in  her  long  robes 
of  mourning,  lent  it  another  charm, — that  of  melancholy  ; 
and  when  Rousseau,  at  last  raised  that  voice  there  which 
could  gather  together  tempests,  it  was  not  philosophy, 
nor  social  conditions,  nor  the  rights  of  man  of  which  he 
spoker:  it  was  still  love  and  poetry. 

Chenonceaux,  by  means  of  its  position,  its  architec- 
ture, and  its  history,  is  so  near  the  other  chateaux  on 
the  banks  of  the  Loire,  neighbouring  and  contemporary 
pearls,  that  it  is  impossible  to  detach  it  from  that  jewel-case. 
However,  it  is  not  on  the  Loire,  the  river  of  severe  hori- 
zons and  majestic  wearisomeness ;  it  is  on  a  less  proud  and 
more  smiling  little  river,  the  Cher,  three  leagues  from  Am- 
boise,  that  this  palace  of  Armida  was  built.  It  rears  itself 
upon  the  bosom  of  this  charming  stream  which  stops  here 
in  a  lazy  curve  as  if  to  linger  and  bathe  its  walls,  delight- 
ing in  reflecting  those  graceful  towers  and  enchanted 
gardens  in  its  liquid  depths.  No  other  palace  that  I  know 
rises  thus,  like  Venus  from  the  breast  of  the  waves,  with- 
out any  link  to  the  earth  save  a  single  bridge  at  one  of  its 
extremities.  It  was  a  woman  who  had  this  charming  idea 
that  gives  to  the  chateau  a  somewhat  fairy-like  and  super- 
natural effect :  for  Chenonceaux  is  not,  as  is  too  often  be- 
lieved, the  work  of  Thomas  Bohier,  but  of  his  wife,  who 
consecrated  to  this  work,  conceived  in  love,  the  treasures 
that  her  husband  sent  her  from  Italy.  There  are  two  other 
women,  Diane  de  Poitiers  and  Catherine  de'Medici  who 
completed  while  enlarging  the  thought  of  Catherine 
Bri^onnet.  It  seems  that  women  only  could  possess  a  suf- 


CHATEAU  DE  CHENONCEAUX 

ficiently  light  hand  to  touch  such  a  delicate  work  and  to 
design  the  plan. 

It  was  at  the  north-east  corner  of  the  court  of  honour, 
between  the  stream  and  the  gardener's  house,  that  MM. 
Sechan  and  Deplechein  placed  themselves  to  paint  the  pic- 
ture used  for  the  scenery  in  the  second  act  of  Les  Hugue- 
nots. This  choice  proved  a  familiar  general  view.  No 
other  spot  shows  Chenonceaux  in  a  more  complete  and 
picturesque  aspect.  Seen  from  this  point,  the  chateau  pre- 
sents itself  obliquely,  which  enables  the  eye  to  embrace  at 
the  same  time  the  principal  facade  and  the  entire  construc- 
tion of  the  western  side,  from  the  apsis  of  the  chapel  to  the 
end  of  the  gallery  that  crosses  the  Cher. 

The  foreground  of  the  picture  is  charming. 

At  the  right  and  in  the  corner,  the  court  of  honour  pre- 
cedes its  royal  avenue  of  plantains  and  ends  with  its  stone 
balustrades.  Behind  this  balustrade,  stands  the  beautiful 
tower  with  a  roof  like  a  pepper  box,  which  is  used  as  the 
porter's  lodge,  and  which,  built  upon  the  firm  ground,  seems 
like  a  timid  sister  watching  her  big  sisters  bathing  their  feet 
in  the  river  without  daring  to  follow  them. 

In  the  middle  distance,  is  the  bridge  with  its  three  un- 
equal arches  and  its  heavy  buttresses  alongside  of  their  half 
moons  in  brackets.  Beyond  the  bridge,  is  the  principal 
facade,  flanked  with  two  corbelled  towers  presenting  under 
a  flying  buttress  its  large  caryatides,  its  two  balconies  in 
hemicycle,  and  three  charming  dormer  windows  that  crown 
it.  Farther  along  in  the  centre  of  the  picture,  is  the  apsis 
of  the  chapel  with  its  long  lancets  flaming  in  the  sun,  sup- 


CHATEAU  DE  CHENONCEAUX 


177 


ported,  like  the  principal  front,  by  those  heavy  courses  of 
stone  in  which  are  the  kitchen  offices  of  the  castle  ;  then 
comes  the  beautiful  eastern  front  that  surmounts  the  great 
arch  and  occupies  the  centre  of  the  stream  which,  as  well 
as  the  whole  corresponding  western  front,  must  certainly  be 
attributed  to  Diane  de  Poitiers,  for  its  windows,  its  archi- 
trave and  all  the  details  of  its  entablature  bear  the  mark  of 
the  reign  of  Henri  II. 

Finally,  to  the  left  of  the  picture,  are  the  five  arches  of  the 
bridge  built  for  Diane  to  connect  the  left  bank  of  the  Cher 
with  the  great  pavilion  and,  above  this  bridge,  the  two 
stages  of  galleries  constructed  by  Androuet  du  Cerceau  for 
Catherine  de'Medici,  with  their  little  turrets  with  arched 
windows  corresponding  to  the  peers,  and  forming  so  many 
terraces  for  the  second  gallery. 

All  this,  with  the  river  for  the  foreground  and  with  the 
large  trees  on  both  banks  for  a  frame,  and  the  trees  of  the 
gardens  for  perspective,  and  the  tops,  formerly  gilded,  of  the 
gallery  and  the  large  pavilion,  the  ornamented  chimneys,  the 
peaked  roofs  and  the  vanes  of  the  turrets,  peaks,  dormer 
windows,  chimneys  and  weather-vanes,  vaporously  melting 
into  the  beautiful  sky  of  Touraine ;  all  this,  I  say,  forms  a 
complete  whole  that  would  ravish  any  painter  and  one  that 
in  truth  is  worthy  of  the  honour  paid  to  it  by  M.  Scribe  at 
the  Opera.  No  false  tone  and  no  ungraceful  nor  violent 
line  disturbs  the  harmony  of  this  beautiful  picture.  Minds 
that  love  parallelism  and  symmetry  may  regret  undoubtedly 
that  the  enthusiasm  of  political  life  did  not  permit  Catherine 
de'Medici  to  complete  that  beautiful  conception  and  build 


!78  CHATEAU  DE  CHENONCEAUX 

upon  the  left  bank  of  the  Cher  a  large  pavilion  similar  to 
that  on  the  right  bank  :  the  gallery,  which  does  not  come 
to-day  any  further  than  the  steep  bank  of  the  river,  would 
then  have  occupied  the  centre  of  the  building.  But,  per- 
haps, there  is  in  this  incompleteness  of  Chenonceaux,  which 
permits  everybody  to  finish  it  in  dreams  according  to  his 
pleasure,  something  that  saves  it  from  banality ;  perhaps  it 
gains,  instead  of  losing,  by  exciting  that  admiration  mingled 
with  regrets  and  also  with  criticism  which  the  greater  num- 
ber of  men,  by  an  inherent  weakness  of  nature,  prefer  to  the 
enthusiasm  without  reservation  that  is  the  right  of  a  perfect 
work. 


DUBLIN  CASTLE 

LADY    WILDE 

FEW  amongst  us  who  tread  the  Dublin  of  the  present 
in  all  its  beauty,  think  of  the  Dublin  of  the  past  in 
all  its  contrasted  insignificance.  True,  the  eternal  features 
are  the  same  ;  the  landscape  setting  of  the  city  is  coeval 
with  creation.  Tyrian,  Dane,  and  Norman  have  looked  as 
we  look,  and  with  hearts  as  responsive  to  Nature's  loveli- 
ness, upon  the  emerald  plains,  the  winding  rivers,  the  hills 
draperied  in  violet  and  gold,  the  mountain  gorges,  thunder- 
riven,  half  veiled  by  the  foam  of  the  waterfall,  and  the  eter- 
nal ocean  encircling  all ;  scenes  where  God  said  a  city 
should  arise,  and  the  mountain  and  the  ocean  are  still,  as  of 
old,  the  magnificent  heritage  of  beauty  conferred  on  our 
metropolis. 

But  the  early  races,  whether  from  the  southern  sea  or 
northern  plain,  did  little  to  aid  the  beauty  of  nature  with 
the  products  of  human  intellect.  Dublin,  under  the  Dan- 
ish rule,  consisted  only  of  a  fortress,  a  church,  and  one 
rude  street.  Under  the  rule  of  the  Normans,  those  great 
civilizers  of  the  western  world,  those  grand  energetic  or- 
ganizers, temple  and  tower  builders,  it  rose  gradually  into  a 
beautiful  capital,  the  chief  city  of  Ireland,  the  second  city 
of  the  empire.  At  first  the  rudimental  metropolis  gathered 
round  the  castle,  as  nebulae  round  a  central  sun,  and  from 


l8o  DUBLIN  CASTLE 

this  point  it  radiated  westward  and  southward  ;  the  O'Briens 
on  the  south,  the  O'Connors  on  the  west,  the  O'Neils  on 
the  north,  perpetually  hovering  on  the  borders,  but  never 
able  to  regain  the  city,  never  able  to  dislodge  the  brave 
Norman  garrison  who  had  planted  their  banners  on  the 
castle  walls.  In  that  castle,  during  the  seven  hundred  years 
of  its  existence,  no  Irishman  of  the  old  race  has  ever  held 
rule  for  a  single  hour. 

And  what  a  history  it  has  of  tragedies  and  splendours ; 
crowned  and  discrowned  monarchs  flit  across  the  scene,  and 
tragic  destinies,  likewise,  may  be  recorded  of  many  a  viceroy  ! 
Piers  Gravestone,  Lord  Lieutenant  of  King  Edward,  mur- 
dered; Roger  Mortimer — "The  Gentle  Mortimer" 
hanged  at  Tyburn ;  the  Lord  Deputy  of  King  Richard  II. 
murdered  by  the  O'Briens;  whereupon  the  King  came  over 
to  avenge  his  death,  just  a  year  before  he  himself  was  so 
ruthlessly  murdered  at  Pomfret  Castle.  Two  viceroys  died 
of  the  plague;  how  many  more  were  plagued  to  death, 
history  leaves  unrecorded;  one  was  beheaded  at  Drogheda; 
three  were  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill.  Amongst  the  names 
of  illustrious  Dublin  rulers  may  be  found  those  of  Prince 
John,  the  boy  Deputy  of  thirteen ;  Prince  Lionel,  son  of 
Edward  III.,  who  claimed  Clare  in  right  of  his  wife,  and 
assumed  the  title  of  Clarence  from  having  conquered  it 
from  the  O'Briens. 

The  great  Oliver  Cromwell  was  the  Lord-Lieutenant  of 
the  Parliament,  and  he  in  turn  appointed  his  son  Henry  to 
succeed  him.  Dire  are  the  memories  connected  with 
Cromwell's  reign  here,  both  to  his  own  party  and  to  Ireland. 


DUBLIN  CASTLE  l8l 

Ireton  died  of  the  plague  after  the  siege  of  Limerick  ;  Gen- 
eral Jones  died  of  the  plague  after  the  surrender  of  Dun- 
garvon ;  a  thousand  of  Cromwell's  men  died  of  the  plague 
before  Waterford.  The  climate,  in  its  effect  upon  English 
constitutions,  seems  to  be  the  great  Nemesis  of  Ireland's 
wrongs. 

Strange  scenes,  dark,  secret,  and  cruel,  have  been  enacted 
in  that  gloomy  pile.  No  one  has  told  the  full  story  yet. 
It  will  be  a  Ratcliffe  romance  of  dungeons  and  treacheries, 
of  swift  death  or  slow  murder.  God  and  St.  Mary  were 
invoked  in  vain  for  the  luckless  Irish  prince  or  chieftain 
that  was  caught  in  that  Norman  stronghold;  but  that  was 
in  the  old  time — long,  long  ago.  Now  the  castle  courts 
are  crowded  only  with  loyal  and  courtly  crowds,  gathered 
to  pay  homage  to  the  illustrious  successor  of  a  hundred 
viceroys. 

The  strangest  scene,  perhaps,  in  the  annals  of  vice- 
royalty,  was  when  Thomas  Fitzgerald  (Silken  Thomas), 
son  of  the  Earl  of  Kildare,  and  Lord-Lieutenant  in  his 
father's  absence,  took  up  arms  for  Irish  independence.  He 
rode  through  the  city  with  seven  score  horsemen,  in  shirts  of 
mail  and  silken  fringe  on  their  head-pieces  (hence  the  name 
Silken  Thomas),  to  St.  Mary's  Abbey,  and  there  entering 
the  council  chamber,  he  flung  down  the  sword  of  state  upon 
the  table,  and  bade  defiance  to  the  king  and  his  ministers ; 
then  hastening  to  raise  an  army,  he  laid  siege  to  Dublin 
Castle,  but  with  no  success.  Silken  Thomas  and  five 
uncles  were  sent  to  London,  and  there  executed ;  and  six- 
teen Fitzgeralds  were  hanged  and  quartered  at  Dublin.  By 


DUBLIN  CASTLE 

a  singular  fatality,  no  plot  laid  against  Dublin  Castle  ever 
succeeded ;  though  to  obtain  possession  of  this  foreign 
fortress  was  the  paramount  wish  of  all  Irish  rebel  leaders. 
This  was  the  object  with  Lord  Maguire  and  his  papists, 
with  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  and  his  republicans,  with 
Emmet  and  his  enthusiasts,  with  Smith  O'Brien  and  his 
nationalists — yet  they  all  failed.  Once  only,  during  seven 
centuries,  the  green  flag  waved  over  Dublin  Castle,  with 
the  motto — "  Now  or  Never  !  Now  and  for  Ever  !  "  It 
was  when  Tyrconnel  held  it  for  King  James. 

In  the  ancient  stormy  times  of  Norman  rule,  the  nobility 
naturally  gathered  round  the  Castle.  Skinner's  Row  was 
the  "May  Fair"  of  mediaeval  Dublin,  Hoey's  Court,  Castle 
Street,  Cook  Street,  Fishamlle  Street,  Bridge  Street,  Wer- 
burgh  Street,  High  Street,  Golden  Lane,  Back  Lane,  etc., 
were  the  fashionable  localities  inhabited  by  lords  and 
bishops,  chancellors  and  judges ;  and  Thomas  Street  was 
the  grand  prado  where  viceregal  pomp  and  Norman  pride 
were  oftenest  exhibited. 


SANS  SOUCI  AND  OTHER  PRUSSIAN  PALACES 

WILLIAM  HOWITT 

BERLIN  has  its  public  gardens,  and  its  popular  music 
and  dances,  as  well  as  any  other  German  city  ;  but 
they  who  do  not  care  to  visit  these  will  find  pleasure  in 
walking  as  far  as  the  Kreutzberg,  a  little  eminence,  a 
novelty  here,  at  a  little  distance  from  the  city,  on  which  is 
erected  a  Gothic  cross  or  monument  of  metal,  in  memory 
of  those  who  died  in  the  war;  and  figures  of  the  chief 
leaders  in  it  occupy  niches,  and  the  names  of  all  the  great 
battles  in  which  the  Prussians  were  engaged,  are  exhibited 
on  the  different  sides.  Charlottenburg,  a  few  miles  from 
Berlin,  is  also  not  only  a  charming  palace  in  extensive  and 
pleasant  gardens,  but  of  great  interest  from  the  reposing 
statue  of  the  amiable  Queen  Louise,  by  Rauch,  which  is  in 
a  little  temple  in  the  garden. 

But  Potsdam  is  the  great  paradise  of  this  neighbourhood, 
as  we  may  be  allowed  to  call  it,  for  though  nearly  twenty 
English  miles  distant,  a  railway  conveys  you  there  in  forty 
minutes.  Here  the  scene  is  indeed  changed !  Here,  in- 
stead of  sand  and  monotony,  you  have  hills,  water,  woods, 
every  thing  which  is  attractive  in  nature.  What  a  splendid 
situation  were  this  for  a  capital  !  The  city  on  the  plain, 
backed  by  these  beautiful  hills,  with  every  possible  variety 
of  site  for  villas  and  pleasure  gardens.  What  woods  and 


184     SANS  SOUCI  AND  OTHER  PRUSSIAN  PALACES 

hills,  and  the  beautiful  river  Havell  spreading  itself  broad 
and  winding,  like  a  succession  of  fine  lakes !  Why  was  not 
Berlin  placed  where  Potsdam  is  ?  Possibly  the  Havell, 
broad  as  it  looks,  may  not  be  so  navigable  as  the  Sprey,  and 
there  may  lie  the  secret,  or  what  a  capital  would  it  be  here  ! 
Frederick  the  Great,  however,  duly  appreciated  the 
beauty  of  this  neighbourhood.  Here  he  delighted  to  retire. 
Steam  has  now  converted  Potsdam  into  a  suburb  of  Berlin, 
and  pours  on  all  holidays  its  thousands  into  it,  without 
which  Potsdam  were  a  retirement  and  a  solitude  still,  for 
grass  grows  in  its  streets.  But  who  cares  for  Potsdam 
itself,  as  it  lies  in  its  hollow,  with  its  great  old  palace,  and 
great  old  public  buildings  and  barracks,  and  avenues  of  great 
trees,  except  that  its  old  church  contains  the  tomb  of 
Frederick  the  Great,  on  which  Napoleon  heaped  the  incense 
of  his  praise,  and  from  which  he  stole  the  old  warrior's 
sword.  But  the  hills  on  the  Havell,  and  the  views  of  the 
Havell  from  them,  the  rich  meadows,  the  wild  forest  scenes 
— these  are  what  justify  Frederick's  fondness  for  this  spot, 
and  who  can  enough  enjoy  them  ?  That  Frederick  en- 
joyed them,  the  palaces  which  he  has  scattered  through 
them  with  an  extraordinary  prodigality,  sufficiently  testify  : 
the  Palace  in  Potsdam,  the  Palace  of  Sans  Souci,  the  Marble 
Palace,  the  New  Palaces.  That  the  present  race  enjoy 
them,  various  lovely  villas,  as  the  Charlottenhof,  Grunecke, 
and  others  shew.  That  the  last  king  enjoyed  them,  the 
Pfauen-Insel  is  a  charming  proof.  If  any  one  wishes  to  find 
the  lost  fairy-land,  he  must  steer  his  course  along  the  Havell, 
through  a  wilderness  of  pine  woods  to  the  Pfauen-Insel, 


SANS  SOUCI  AND  OTHER  PRUSSIAN  PALACES      185 

and  there  he  will  acknowledge  that  he  has  discovered  it. 
Around  amid  hills  shaggy  with  forests  the  Havell  pours  its 
deep  and  dark  waters  like  an  inland  sea.  The  world  is 
shut  out  by  the  bosky  shores  and  deep  pine  woods  of  un- 
known regions,  and  in  the  embracing  floods  lies  the  most 
delicious  region  which  a  poet's  fancy  could  conjure  up,  or 
which  nature  and  art,  in  mutual  labour,  can  construct  from 
the  ordinary  materials  of  the  earth.  Shores  of  softest 
green,  most  ravishing  lawns,  flowers  of  superbest  dyes  and 
in  gorgeous  masses,  trees  of  stateliest  growth  and  graceful- 
lest  beauty  of  pendant  boughs,  invite  you  ever  to  scenes 
where  you  may  wander  for  hours,  and  every  few  moments 
encounter  some  new  surprise.  Here  feudal  towers  rise 
above  the  flood,  with  heraldic  banners  flapping  over  the 
battlements ;  here  stately  barge  and  light  shallop  lie  anchored 
in  some  lonely  creek;  here  slope  sunny  uplands  under 
scattered  oaks,  where  the  shepherd  watches  his  flock. 
Here  you  come  upon  a  noble  conservatory,  beautiful  with 
the  palms  and  dates  and  glorious  blossoms  of  tropical  re- 
gions, and  aromatic  with  their  odours.  If  you  would  have 
any  illusion  to  persuade  you,  beyond  the  charms  of  nature 
and  of  summer,  that  you  are  in  a  region  of  enchantment, 
you  have  it.  You  hear  the  roar  of  the  lion,  the  cry  of  the 
jackal,  and  the  scream  of  birds  unknown  in  these  climates. 
You  imagine  that  some  scene  in  Tasso  or  Ariosto  is  about 
to  be  repeated,  and  find  actually  wild  beasts  of  all  sorts  in 
different  dens  and  cages  in  various  parts  of  the  island. 
Such  were  the  amusements  of  a  king  here,  after  he  had 
helped  to  bind  the  great  wild  beast  of  the  age  on  the  rocks 


1 86     SANS  SOUCI  AND  OTHER  PRUSSIAN  PALACES 

of  St.  Helena ;  and  a  more  enchanting  scene  for  a  day's 
excursion  he  could  not  have  left  for  the  pleasure  of  his 
subjects. 

Amongst  the  numerous  royal  palaces  we  must  say  a  good 
word  for  the  New  Palace,  as  it  is  called,  although  it  has 
been  often  and  much  abused.  If  not  in  the  purest  taste, 
it  still  possesses  a  certain  grandeur  in  its  enormous  extent, 
and  prodigality  of  colonnades,  porticoes,  and  statues  con- 
nected with  it.  It  lies  low,  in  the  meadow  below  Potsdam, 
but  has  a  fine  solitude  of  woods  and  quaint  gardens  about 
it.  It  is  itself  a  good  and  cheerful  house,  and  contains 
many  paintings  of  much  merit  and  beauty.  It  has  also  a 
theatre,  in  which  have  recently  been  represented,  before  the 
court,  some  of  the  dramatic  pieces  of  Tieck.  If  this 
palace  were  inhabited  by  the  king,  with  a  full  and  gay 
court,  it  would,  with  the  necessary  life  and  bustle  about  it, 
produce  far  from  a  despicable  impression. 

Then  there  is,  in  the  wood  near,  that  little  temple  con- 
taining the  second  and  most  beautiful  reposing  figure  of  the 
late  Queen  by  Rauch.  We  had  heard  this  effigy  much 
praised  for  its  beauty ;  but  the  beauty  is  that  of  mind  and 
heart.  Representatives  of  far  higher  physical  beauty  we 
have  often  seen.  The  somewhat  high  cheek  bones,  the 
shape  of  the  nose,  and  the  general  contour  indeed  of  the 
countenance,  depart  from  the  pure  ideal  of  personal  beauty, 
but  a  still  higher  beauty  distinguishes  this  charming  statue. 
It  is  that  perfect  sweetness  of  disposition ;  that  spirit  bap- 
tized in  heavenly  affection  ;  that  wife-like  devotion  ;  that  high 
and  dauntless,  and  holy  patriotism,  dwelling  in  a  meek  and 


SANS  SOUCI  AND  OTHER  PRUSSIAN  PALACES      187 

lowly  nature,  which  made  this  excellent  queen  adored  by 
the  people  when  alive,  and  which  glorify  her  image  here  in 
the  cold  stone. 

Not  far  from  this  palace  is  Charlottenhof,  the  beautiful 
little  villa  in  the  Herculaneum  style  built  by  the  present 
king,  when  Crown-Prince,  for  himself.  It  is  fitted  up  with 
a  simplicity  befitting  a  private  gentleman,  but  with  a 
classical  purity  of  taste  which  makes  all  beautiful.  But 
Sans  Souci  is  the  great  attraction  of  the  neighbourhood.  It 
is  a  mere  villa  perched  on  a  hill  just  above  Potsdam,  and 
surrounded  by  the  most  lovely  views  over  the  meadows  and 
wild  woody  banks  of  the  Havell.  The  hill  on  which  it 
stands  is  crowned  with  gardens  in  successive  terraces.  As 
you  approach  through  the  fine  meadows  and  beneath  a  noble 
avenue  of  trees,  broad  flights  of  steps,  ascending  from  ter- 
race to  terrace  up  to  the  house,  and  the  lower  part  of  the 
house  half  concealed  from  view  by  the  swell  of  the  hill, 
give  a  very  singular  appearance  to  the  whole.  It  seems  as 
if  the  house  was  surrounded  by  a  piazza,  and  that  those 
flights  of  steps  ascended  to  the  top,  instead  of  to  the  bottom 
of  the  building.  As  we  ascended  these  long  flights  of  steps, 
successive  terraces  of  the  garden  shewed  themselves  right 
and  left,  with  their  vines  and  fig-trees  loaded  with  fruit,  and 
with  quantities  of  golden  gourds,  each  perfectly  round, 
large  enough  to  fill  a  wheelbarrow,  lying  about ;  and  flowers, 
in  richest  autumnal  hues,  glowed  around.  Arrived  on  the 
summit,  nothing  can  be  conceived  more  delicious.  The 
fine  views  over  the  lovely  country  ;  the  gardens  all  below 
you ;  the  space  before  the  palace  full  of  beds  of  gayest 


1 88     SANS  SOUCI  AND  OTHER  PRUSSIAN  PALACES 

flowers,  and  orange  trees  standing  everywhere  in  blossom, 
diffusing  through  the  whole  air  their  delicious  aroma.  Trees 
of  splendid  growth  added  their  beauty  to  the  spot ;  the  mill 
of  the  sturdy  old  miller  shewing  itself  amongst  them ;  and 
from  a  circular  colonnade,  on  the  other  side  of  the  house, 
a  brownish,  wildish,  burnt-up  sort  of  a  country,  with  wind- 
mills, and  an  artificial  ruin  of  a  Grecian  temple  on  a  woody 
hill  opposite,  constructed  with  better  effect  than  such  things 
generally  are,  presented  a  fit  landscape  for  an  old  painter. 

Every  part  of  this  place  abounds  with  recollections  of 
the  victorious  old  Fritz.  At  each  end  of  the  garden,  in  a 
green  plot,  are  the  graves  of  his  horse  and  dogs,  eleven  in 
number,  he  having  ordered  himself  to  be  laid  there  to  com- 
plete the  dozen  ;  an  order  not  complied  with.  In  the  house 
remain  many  memorials  of  him  ;  'mongst  them  the  clock, 
which  stopped  exactly  as  he  died,  and  his  library,  in  which 
his  own  works  are  conspicuous.  One  volume  of  his  poems 
stood  open  at  this  curious  passage : 

Mais,  quels  sont  ces  cries  d'  Alegresse  ! 

Quels  Chants  !     Quelles  acclamations  ! 

Les  Francais  plein  de  son  yvresse 

Semble  vainqueur  des  Nations. 

II  1*  est ;  et  voila  qui  s'  avance 

La  Pompe  du  jeune  Louis  : 

L' Anglais  a  perdu  sa  Balance, 

L'Autricien,  son  insolence, 

Et  la  Balave  encore  surpris 

En  grondant  benit  La  Clemence 

De  ce  Heros,  dont  1*  indulgence  — 

The     wall    of  the    room   occupied    here  by   Voltaire   is 


SANS  SOUCI  AND  OTHER  PRUSSIAN  PALACES      189 

painted  all  over  monkeys  and  parrots.  They  tell  you  that 
Frederick,  being  desirous  to  have  a  portrait  of  the  ugly  old 
Frenchman,  to  which  he  would  not  consent,  the  king  em- 
ployed a  painter  to  observe  him  by  stealth  from  the  next 
room  whenever  the  door  was  opened,  which  Voltaire  becom- 
ing aware  of,  clapped  a  screen  before  his  table  ;  and  Fred- 
erick to  mortify  him,  caused  the  whole  of  the  walls  of  his 
room,  the  first  opportunity,  to  be  thus  adorned  with  monkeys 
and  parrots,  as  indicative  of  his  person  and  loquacity.  Poor 
Frederick  paid  dearly  in  his  lifetime,  in  annoyance,  for  his 
propensity  to  French  philosophy ;  and  his  country  paid  still 
more  so  for  it  after  his  death. 


WHITEHALL  PALACE 

LEIGH  HUNT 

THE  whole  district  containing  all  that  collection  of 
streets  and  houses,  which  extends  from  Scotland 
Yard  to  Parliament  Street,  and  from  the  river  side,  with  its 
wharfs,  to  St.  James's  Park,  and  which  is  still  known  by  the 
general  appellation  of  Whitehall,  was  formerly  occupied  by 
a  sumptuous  palace  and  its  appurtenances,  the  only  relics  of 
which,  perhaps  the  noblest  specimen,  is  the  beautiful  edifice 
built  by  Inigo  Jones,  and  retaining  its  old  name  of  the 
Banqueting-House. 

As  this  palace  was  the  abode  of  a  series  of  English 
sovereigns,  beginning  with  Henry  the  Eighth,  who  took  it 
from  Wolsey,  and  terminating  with  James  the  Second,  on 
whose  downfall  it  was  destroyed  by  fire,  we  are  now  in  the 
very  thick  of  the  air  of  royalty. 

The  site  of  Whitehall  was  originally  occupied  by  a  man- 
sion built  by  Hubert  de  Burgh,  Earl  of  Kent  and  Chief 
Justice  of  England  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Third,  one 
of  the  ancestors  of  the  present  Marquess  of  Clanricarde. 
De  Burgh  bequeathed  it  to  the  brotherhood  of  the  Black 
Friars,  near  "Oldborne,"  in  whose  church  he  was  buried ; 
the  Brotherhood  sold  it  to  Walter  Gray,  Archbishop  of 
York,  who  left  it  to  his  successors  in  that  see  as  the  arch- 
iepiscopal  residence,  which  procured  it  the  name  of 


WHITEHALL  PALACE 


191 


York  Place  ;  and  under  that  name,  two  centuries  and  a  half 
afterwards,  it  became  celebrated  for  the  pomp  and  splendour 
of  the  "  full-blown "  priest,  Wolsey,  the  magnificent 
butcher's  son.  Wolsey,  on  highly  probable  evidence,  is 
thought  to  have  so  improved  and  enlarged  the  mansion  of 
his  predecessors,  as  to  have  in  a  manner  rebuilt  it,  and  given 
it  its  first  royalty  of  aspect :  but,  as  we  shall  see  by  and  by, 
it  was  not  called  Whitehall,  nor  occupied  anything  like  the 
space  it  did  afterwards,  till  its  seizure  by  the  Cardinal's 
master. 

On  the  Cardinal's  downfall,  Henry  seized  his  house  and 
goods,  and  converted  York  Place  into  a  royal  residence, 
under  the  title  of  Westminster  Place,  then,  for  the  first 
time,  called  also  Whitehall. 

"  It  is  not  impossible,"  says  Mr.  Brayley  (Londiniana 
Vol.  II.,  p.  27), "  that  the  Whitehall,  properly  so  called,  was 
erected  by  Wolsey,  and  obtained  its  name  from  the  newness 
and  freshness  of  its  appearance,  when  compared  with  the 
ancient  buildings  of  York  Place.  Shakespeare  in  his  play 
of  King  Henry  Fill.,  makes  one  of  the  interlocutors  say, 
in  describing  the  coronation  of  Queen  Anne  Boleyn  : — 

'  So  she  parted, 

And  with  the  same  full  state  paced  back  again 
To  York  Place,  where  the  feast  is  held.' 

To  this  is  replied — 

'  Sir,  you 

Must  no  more  call  it  York  Place — that  is  past. 
For  since  the  Cardinal  fell,  that  title's  lost. 
'Tis  now  the  King's,  and  called  Whitehall.'  " 

It    was   in   Whitehall   that   Henry    made   his  ill-assorted 


192  WHITEHALL  PALACE 

marriage  with  Anne  Boleyn ;  Dr.  Lingard  says  in  a 
u  garret  " ;  Stowe  says  in  the  royal  "  closet."  It  is  likely 
enough  that  the  ceremony  was  hurried  and  sudden ; — a  ht 
of  will,  perhaps,  during  his  wine  ;  and  if  the  closet  was  not 
ready,  the  garret  was.  The  clergyman  who  officiated  was 
shortly  afterwards  made  a  bishop. 

Henry  died  in  Whitehall ;  so  fat,  that  he  was  lifted  in 
and  out  his  chamber  and  sitting-room  by  means  of  machinery. 

u  He  was  "  somewhat  gross,  or,  as  we  tearme  it,  bourlie," 
says  time-serving  Holinshed. 

He  laboured  under  the  burden  of  an  extreme  fit  and  un- 
wieldy body,"  says  noble  Herbert  of  Cherbury. 

It  was  under  this  Prince  (as  already  noticed)  that  the 
palace  of  the  Archbishop  of  York  first  became  the  "  King's 
Palace  at  Westminster,"  and  expanded  into  that  mass  of 
houses  which  stretched  to  St.  James's  Park.  He  built  a 
gate-house  which  stood  across  what  is  now  the  open  street, 
and  a  gallery  connecting  the  two  places,  and  overlooking  a 
tilt-yard ;  and  on  the  park-side  he  built  a  cockpit,  a  tennis- 
court,  and  alleys  for  bowling  ;  for  although  he  put  women 
to  death,  he  was  fond  of  manly  sports.  He  was  also  a 
patron  of  the  fine  arts,  and  gave  an  annuity  and  rooms  in 
the  palace  to  the  celebrated  Holbein,  who  is  said  to  have 
designed  the  gate,  as  well  as  decorated  the  interior. 

The  reader  is  to  bear  in  mind  that  the  street  in  front  of 
the  modern  Banquet! ng-House  was  always  open,  as  it  is 
now,  from  Charing  Cross  to  King  Street,  narrowing  opposite 
to  the  south  end  of  the  Banqueting-House,  at  which  point 
the  gate  looked  up  it  towards  the  Cross.  Just  opposite  the 


WHITEHALL   PALACE  193 

Banqueting-House  on  the  site  of  the  present  Horse-Guards, 
was  the  Tilt-yard.  The  whole  mass  of  houses  and  gardens 
on  the  river  side  comprised  the  royal  residence.  Down 
this  open  street,  then,  just  as  people  walk  now,  we  may 
picture  to  ourselves  Henry  coming  with  his  regal  pomp, 
and  Wolsey  with  his  priestly ;  Sir  Thomas  More  strolling 
thoughtfully,  perhaps  talking  with  quiet-faced  Erasmus; 
Holbein,  looking  about  him  with  an  artist's  eyes ;  Surrey 
coming  gallantly  in  his  cloak  and  feather,  as  Holbein  has 
painted  him ;  and  a  succession  of  Henry's  wives,  with  their 
flitting  groups  on  horseback  or  under  canopy ; — handsome, 
stately  Catherine  of  Arragon  ;  laughing  Anne  Boleyn  ;  quiet 
Jane  Seymour;  gross-bodied  but  sensible  Anne  of  Cleves; 
demure  Catherine  Howard,  who  played  such  pranks  before 
marriage ;  and  disputatious  yet  buxom  Catherine  Parr,  who 
survived  one  tyrant  to  become  the  broken-hearted  wife  of  a 
smaller  one.  Down  this  road,  also  came  gallant  companies 
of  knights  and  squires,  to  the  tilting-yard ;  but  of  them  we 
shall  have  more  to  say  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth. 

We  see  little  of  Edward  the  Sixth,  and  less  of  Lady  Jane 
Grey  and  Queen  Mary,  in  connection  with  Whitehall. 
Edward  once  held  the  Parliament  there,  on  account  of  his 
sickly  condition  ;  and  he  used  to  hear  Latimer  preach  in 
the  Privy  Garden  (still  so  called),  where  a  pulpit  was 
erected  for  him  on  purpose.  As  there  are  gardens  there 
still  to  the  houses  erected  on  the  spot,  one  may  stand  by 
the  rails,  and  fancy  we  hear  the  voice  of  the  rustical  but 
eloquent  and  honest  prelate,  rising  through  the  trees. 

It  was  under  Elizabeth  that  Whitehall  shone  out  in  all  its 


i94 


WHITEHALL  PALACE 


romantic  splendour.  It  was  no  longer  the  splendour  of 
Wolsey  alone,  nor  of  Henry  alone,  or  with  a  great  name 
by  his  side  now  and  then ;  but  of  a  Queen,  surrounded  and 
worshipped  through  a  long  reign  by  a  galaxy  of  the  brightest 
minds  and  most  chivalrous  persons  ever  assembled  in  Eng- 
lish history. 

Here  she  comes,  turning  the  corner  from  the  Strand,  un- 
der a  canopy  of  state,  leaving  the  noisier,  huzzaing  multi- 
tude behind  the  barriers  that  mark  the  precincts  of  the 
palace,  and  bending  her  eyes  hither  and  thither,  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  kneeling  obeisances  of  the  courtiers.  Be- 
side her  are  Cecil  and  Knolles,  and  Northampton,  and 
Bacon's  father ;  or,  later  in  life,  Leicester,  and  Burleigh, 
and  Sir  Philip  Sydney,  and  Greville,  and  Sir  Francis  Drake, 
(and  Spenser  is  looking  on)  ;  or,  later  still,  Essex  and  Ra- 
leigh, and  Bacon  himself,  and  Southampton,  Shakespeare's 
friend,  with  Shakespeare  among  the  spectators.  We  shall 
see  her,  by  and  by,  at  that  period,  as  brought  to  life  to  us 
in  the  description  of  Hentzner  the  traveller.  At  present 
(as  we  have  her  at  this  moment  in  our  eye)  she  is  younger, 
of  a  large  and  tall,  but  well-made  figure,  with  fine  eyes,  and 
finer  hands,  which  she  is  fond  of  displaying.  We  are  too 
apt  to  think  of  Elizabeth  as  thin  and  elderly,  and  patched  up  -, 
but  for  a  good  period  of  her  life  she  was  plump  and  person- 
able, warranting  the  history  of  the  robust  romps  of  the 
Lord  Admiral,  Seymour ;  and  till  her  latter  days  (and  even 
then,  as  far  as  her  powers  went),  we  are  always  to  fancy 
her  at  once  spirited  and  stately  of  carriage,  impulsive  (ex- 
cept on  occasions  of  ordinary  ceremony),  and  ready  to 


WHITEHALL  PALACE 

manifest  her  emotions  in  look  and  voice,  whether  as  woman 
or  Queen  ;  in  a  word,  a  sort  of  Henry  the  Eighth  corrected 
by  a  female  nature  and  a  better  understanding — or  perhaps 
an  Anne  Boleyn,  enlarged,  and  made  less  feminine  by  the 
father's  grossness.  The  Protestants  have  represented  her 
as  too  staid,  and  the  Catholics  as  too  violent  and  sensual. 
According  to  the  latter,  Whitehall  was  a  mere  sink  of  in- 
iquity. It  was  not  likely  to  be  so,  for  many  reasons ;  but 
neither,  on  the  other  hand,  do  we  take  it  to  have  been  any- 
thing like  the  pattern  of  self-denial  which  some  fond 
writers  have  supposed.  Where  there  is  power,  and  leisure, 
and  luxury,  though  of  the  most  legitimate  kind,  and  refine- 
ment, though  of  the  most  intellectual,  self-denial  on  the 
side  of  enjoyment  is  not  apt  to  be  the  reigning  philosophy ; 
nor  would  it  reasonably  be  looked  for  in  any  court,  at  all 
living  in  wealth  and  splendour. 

Imagine  the  sensations  of  Elizabeth,  when  she  first  set 
down  in  the  palace  at  Whitehall,  after  escaping  the  perils 
of  imputed  illegitimacy,  of  confinement  for  party's  sake  and 
for  religion's,  and  all  the  other  terrors  of  her  father's  reign 
and  of  Mary's,  danger  of  death  itself  not  excepted.  She 
was  a  young  Queen  of  twenty-five  years  of  age,  healthy, 
sprightly,  good-looking,  with  plenty  of  will,  power,  and  im- 
agination ;  and  the  gallantest  spirits  of  the  age  were  at  her  feet. 

The  Court  of  James  the  First  was  a  great  falling  off  from 
that  of  Elizabeth,  in  point  of  decency.  It  was  Sir  Toby 
keeping  house  after  the  death  of  Olivia;  or  a  fox-hunting 
squire  succeeding  to  the  estate  of  some  courtly  dame  and 
mingling  low  life  with  high. 


!g6  WHITEHALL  PALACE 

We  have  seen  court  mummeries  in  the  time  of  Henry 
the  Eighth  and  pageants  in  that  of  Elizabeth.  In  the  time 
of  James,  the  masquings  of  the  one,  and  the  gorgeous  shows 
of  the  other,  combined  to  produce  the  Masque,  in  its  latest 
and  best  acceptation  ;  that  is,  a  dramatic  exhibition  of  some 
brief  fable  or  allegory,  uniting  the  most  fanciful  poetry  and 
scenery,  and  generally  heightened  with  a  contrast  of  hu- 
mour, or  an  anti-masque.  Ben  Jonson  was  their  great 
poetical  master  in  the  court  of  James  and  Inigo  Jones 
claimed  to  be  their  no  less  masterly  and  important  setter- 
forth  in  scene  and  show.  The  poet  and  artist  had  a  quarrel 
upon  this  issue,  and  Inigo's  memory  suffers  from  divers 
biting  libels  in  the  works  of  his  adversary.  The  noble 
Banqueting-House  remains  to  show  that  the  architect  might 
have  had  some  right  to  dispute  pretensions,  even  with  the 
author  of  the  Alchemist  and  the  Sad  Shepherd ;  for  it  is  a  piece 
of  the  very  music  of  his  art  (if  we  may  so  speak) — the  har- 
mony of  proportion.  Within  these  walls,  as  we  now  see 
them,  rose,  "  like  a  steam  of  rich  distilled  perfumes,"  the 
elegant  lines  of  Ben  Jonson,  breathing  court  flowers, — the 
clouds  and  painted  columns  of  Jones — and  the  fair  faces, 
gorgeous  dresses,  and  dances,  of  the  beauties  that  dazzled 
the  young  eyesight  of  the  Miltons  and  Wallers.  Ben's 
burly  body  would  then  break  out,  as  it  were,  after  his  more 
refined  soul,  in  some  burlesque  anti-masque,  now  and  then 
not  a  little  coarse  ;  and  the  sovereign  and  the  poet  most 
probably  concluded  the  night  in  the  same  manner, 
though  not  at  the  same  table  in  filling  their  skins  with 
wine. 


WHITEHALL  PALACE 


197 


The  Court  of  Charles  I.  was  decorum  and  virtue  itself  in 
comparison  with  that  of  James.  Drunkenness  disappeared; 
there  were  no  scandalous  favourites  ;  Buckingham  alone  re- 
tained his  ascendency  as  the  friend  and  assistant ;  and  the 
king  manifested  his  notions  of  the  royal  dignity  by  a  stately 
reserve.  Little  remained  externally  of  the  old  Court  but  its 
splendour;  and  to  this  a  new  lustre  was  given  by  a  taste 
for  painting  and  the  patronage  of  Rubens  and  Vandyke. 
Charles  was  a  great  collector  of  pictures.  He  was  still 
fonder  of  poetry  than  his  father,  retained  Ben  Jonson  as  his 
laureate,  encouraged  Sandys,  and  May,  and  Carew,  and 
was  a  fond  reader  of  Spenser  and  Shakespeare.  It  was, 
upon  the  whole  a  grave  and  graceful  court,  not  without  an 
undercurrent  of  intrigue. 

It  seems  ridiculous  to  talk  of  the  court  of  Oliver  Crom- 
well, who  had  so  many  severe  matters  to  attend  to  in  order 
to  keep  himself  on  his  throne ;  but  he  had  a  court,  neverthe- 
less ;  and  however  jealously  it  was  watched  by  the  most 
influential  of  his  adherents,  it  grew  more  courtly  as  his 
protectorate  advanced. 

But  how  shall  we  speak  of  the  court  of  Charles  II.  ?  of 
that  unblushing  seminary  for  the  misdirection  of  young 
ladies,  which,  occupying  the  ground  now  inhabited  by  all 
which  is  proper,  rendered  the  mass  of  buildings  by  the 
water's  side,  from  Charing  Cross  to  the  Parliament,  one 
vast — what  are  we  to  call  it  ? — 


"  Chi  mi  dara  le  voci  e  le  parole 
Convenient!  a  si  nobil  soggetto  ?  " 


J98  WHITEHALL  PALACE 

Let  Mr.  Pepys  explain.  Let  Clarendon  explain.  Let 
all  the  world  explain,  who  equally  reprobate  the  place  and 
its  master,  and  yet  somehow  are  so  willing  to  hear  it 
reprobated,  that  they  read  endless  accounts  of  it,  old  and 
new,  from  the  not  very  bashful  expose  of  the  Count  de 
Grammont,  down  to  the  blushing  deprecations  of  Mrs. 
Jameson. 

The  Court  of  James  II.  is  hardly  worth  mention.  It  lasted 
less  than  four  years,  and  was  as  dull  as  himself.  The  most 
remarkable  circumstance  attending  it  was  the  sight  of  friars 
and  confessors,  and  the  brief  restoration  of  Popery.  Waller, 
too,  was  once  seen  there  ;  the  fourth  court  of  his  visiting. 
There  was  a  poetess  also,  who  appears  to  have  been 
attached  by  regard  as  well  as  office  to  the  Court  of  James — 
Anne  Kingswill,  better  known  by  her  subsequent  title  of 
Countess  of  Winchelsea.  The  attachment  was  most  prob- 
ably one  of  feeling  only  and  good  nature,  for  she  had  no 
bigotry  of  any  sort.  Dryden,  furthermore,  was  laureate  to 
King  James ;  and  in  a  fit  of  politic,  perhaps  real,  regret, 
turned  round  upon  the  late  court  in  his  famous  comparison 
of  it  with  its  predecessor. 

James  fled  from  England  in  December,  1688,  and  the 
history  of  Whitehall  terminates  with  its  conflagration  ten 
years  afterwards. 


THE  CASTLE  OF  KRONBORG 

HORACE  MARRYAT 

THE  walks  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Elsinore  are 
charming,  particularly  that  along  the  Strandrei,  by 
the  shore  of  the  Sound— a  succession  of  country  houses  and 
fishing  villages,  and  well-kept  gardens  bright  with  flowers : 
they  have  a  well-to-do  prosperous  air,  as  everything  has  in 
Denmark.  An  hour's  walk  brings  you  to  a  maisonette 
called  Dahlsborg,  beyond  which  you  turn  to  enter  the 
forest  of  Egebaeksvang,  a  favourite  summer  drive  of  the 
Elsinorians. 

A  ten  minutes'  walk,  avoiding  all  dusty  roads  across  the 
common  or  waste  land  which  runs  down  to  the  seashore — 
in  England  it  would  have  been  the  paradise  of  geese, 
cricketers  and  donkeys,  but  here  it  is  deserted,  except  by 
the  sharpshooters,  who  keep  up  a  cross-fire,  practising  their 
targets  from  eight  o'clock  till  six  of  an  evening — brings  us 
to  the  Castle  of  Kronborg. 

The  road  lies  between  two  dirty  stagnant  ponds,  dignified 
by  the  appellation  of  Holger  Dansk's  Spectacles  :  if  they 
fitted  his  face,  he  must  have  had  one  eye  considerably  larger 
than  the  other.  Instead  of  snoring  away  his  time  within 
the  dungeons  of  Kronborg — his  beard  growing  into  the 
marble  table — he  had  far  better  employ  his  leisure  moments 
in  cleaning  out  and  sweetening  his  "  brille  "  ;  but  he  only 


200         THE  CASTLE  OF  KRONBORG 

appears,  they  say,  when  Mr.  Sorensen  (the  Danish  John 
Bull  or  Brother  Jonathan)  really  requires  his  services. 
Effectual  drainage  and  sanitary  reforms  are  sadly  behind- 
hand, and  looked  upon  as  new-fangled  vagaries  by  the 
inhabitants  of  the  island  of  Zealand. 

If  in  your  early  youth  you  have  devoured  the  Fabliaux  et 
ConteSy  King  Arthur  and  the  Knights  of  his  Round  Table,  and 
other  legends  of  old  Romaunce,  you  will  recognize  in  Holger 
Dansk,1  or  rather  Augier  le  Danois,  an  old  and  favourite 
acquaintance.  Some  few  years  since  I  brushed  him  up 
when  I  visited  the  ruins  of  La  'Joyeuse  Garde  and  the  classic 
sands  of  Avalon,  on  the  coast  of  Brittany.  The  French 
romancers  assert  him  to  be  still  confined  at  Avalon,  together 
with  King  Arthur,  held  in  durance  vile  by  the  enchant- 
ments of  the  fay  Morgana.  Occasionally  she  removes 
from  his  brow  the  Lethasan  crown,  when  his  services  are 
required  to  fight  against  the  Paynim  for  the  good  and  wel- 
fare of  Christendom. 

Morgana,  she  of  the  Fata,  was  own  sister  to  our  good 
King  Arthur.  With  other  mighty  fairies,  she  assisted  at 
the  birth  of  Holger  the  Dane ;  later  she  loved  him.  Seduced 
by  her  blandishments,  he  espoused  her :  no  good  ever  comes 
of  marrying  an  old  woman,  be  she  mortal  or  fairy.  Holger 
the  Dane  slumbers  in  the  dungeons  of  Kronborg,  not  at 
Avalon,  as  the  French  would  have  it,  no  more  than  King 


1  Oluf,  called.  God-dreng,  who  reigned  before  King  Ring,  is  by  Adam  of 
Bremen  supposed  to  be  the  real  Holger  Dansk:  he  accompanied  Charle- 
magne to  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  helped  to  place  Prester  John  on  the 
throne  of  India.  "«. 


THE  CASTLE  OF  KRONBORG  2OI 

Arthur,  who  we  all  know  received  Christian  burial  at 
Glastonbury ;  but  French  romancers  do  tell  such  wicked 
stories.  Endless  are  the  traditions,  numerous  the  ballads, 
of  the  exploits  of  this  the  favourite  hero  of  Danish  story : 
when  invoked,  after  much  pressing,  and,  I  must  own  it,  ex- 
acting first  the  promise  of  "  a  good  dinner  and  plenty  to 
drink,"  he  has  frequently  come  to  the  assistance  of  fair 
maidens  in  their  trouble  and  distress,  and  fought  their  battles 
with  his  enchanted  sword,  mounted  on  his  good  steed, 
"  Papillon."  Morgana,  the  fay,  has  never  deserted  entirely 
the  country  of  her  beloved  :  she  still  sports  and  exercises 
her  witcheries  to  favoured  mortals,  when  least  expected, 
among  the  barren  heaths  and  wide-spreading  moors  of  the 
ancient  provinces  of  Jutland. 

I  have  no  intention,  however,  of  visiting  his  prison  down 
below  :  the  wind  is  cast,  my  limbs  are  rheumatic — let 
younger  people  be  more  adventurous.  But  we  pass  the 
drawbridge  and  enter  the  second  gate  of  the  castle.  Verses  in 
the  Danish  tongue  by  the  Scotchman,  Bishop  Kingo,  and 
the  more  illustrious  pen  of  Tycho  Brahe,  adorn  the  portals 
and  celebrate  the  erection  of  the  buildings.  There  is  one 
thing  sure  in  this  world — monarchs  never  allowed  their 
good  works  to  be  hid  in  secret :  on  every  side  you  see  in- 
scriptions, in  letters  of  gold,  announcing  how  Christian  V. 
restored  this,  and  Frederic  IV.  whitewashed  that.  But  I 
must  give  you  some  account  of  the  history  of  the  castle. 

There  is  no  doubt  but,  from  the  earliest  period  of  history, 
a  castle  of  some  kind,  built  for  the  protection  of  the  Sound, 
existed  on  the  site  or  near  where  the  Kronborg  now  stands. 


202          THE  CASTLE  OF  KRONBORG 

In  the  year  1238  the  preceding  fortress  of  Flynderborg — 
situated  at  the  other  end  of  the  town,  near  the  Strandvei, 
named  after  the  flounders,  of  which  quantities  are  taken  in 
front  of  the  batteries — was  in  a  state  of  excellent  repair. 
This  fortress  being  found  unsuited  to  the  exigencies  of  the 
times,  King  Frederic  II.  determined  to  rebuild  it  on  a  scale 
of  unprecedented  grandeur :  the  whole  of  the  expenses  were 
to  be  discharged  from  his  privy  purse,  and  the  building  was 
to  cost  his  subjects  "  not  one  penny."  This  was  more 
easy  of  execution  to  Frederic,  first  crowned  Protestant 
sovereign  of  Denmark,  than  it  would  have  proved  to  later 
monarchs.  He  had  made  a  good  haul  of  suppressed  monas- 
teries, church  lands,  plate,  and  treasure — was  flush  of 
money,  and  did  not  mind  spending  it.  The  existing  castle 
was  then  commenced  in  the  year  1577,  and  completed  in 
the  course  of  nine  years.  Bishop  Kingo  and  Tycho  Brahe 
both  sung  its  praises,  and  the  talents  of  Rubens  were  called 
into  play — somewhat  later  I  imagine — for  the  decoration  of 
the  chapel.  The  castle  is  strongly  fortified  with  double-bas- 
tion, moat,  and  rampart,  after  the  manner  of  preceding  ages. 
Kronborg  possesses  one  great  advantage  over  the  other 
Danish  buildings  of  the  Sixteenth  Century  :  it  is  built  of 
fine  sandstone,  the  only  specimen  in  the  kingdom.  Though 
quadrangular  and  four-towered,  it  is  relieved  from  all  ap- 
pearance of  formality  by  the  quaint  onion  pagoda-like 
minarets  by  which  its  towers  are  surmounted.  The  lofty 
clock  turret  !  too,  rising  from  the  centre,  higher  than  those 

1  In   1538  the  citizens  of  Lund  received  orders  to  pull  down  the  stone 
churches  in  disuse  since  the  Reformation,  and  forward  the  materials  to 


THE  CASTLE  OF  KRONBORG  203 

which  flank  the  corners,  adds  to  the  dignity  of  the  building. 
Few  castles  in  the  space  of  three  hundred  years  have  suffered 
so  little  from  modern  additions  and  improvement :  one 
tower  has  unfortunately  been  destroyed.  In  an  old  engrav- 
ing from  Puffendorf  of  1688,  I  see  the  original  had  already 
been  altered :  it  was  an  eyesore,  but,  in  accordance  with 
the  style  of  the  remainder,  capped  and  ornamented.  It, 
however,  fell  into  decay  during  the  reign  of  Frederic  VI., 
at  that  unfortunate  epoch  when  taste  was  bad  taste,  and  art 
atrocity  :  it  was  repaired — square  and  hideous — a  fearful 
monument  of  the  age.  Formerly  it  served  as  a  telegraph, 
now  as  a  powder  magazine ;  and  unless  it  be  blown  up,  or 
the  powder  becomes  damp,  will,  I  fear,  remain  untouched. 
You  enter  the  interior  court  through  a  richly  ornamented 
gateway,  guarded  by  statues  and  overhung  by  a  beautiful 
oriel  window,  enriched  with  the  arms  and  ciphers  of  the 
founder.  Opposite  to  you  stands  the  chapel  (the  works  of 
Rubens  have  long  since  disappeared)  ;  the  fittings  of  the 
time  of  Christian  IV.  have  been  lately  restored,  but  not  too 
carefully.  It  is  curious  to  trace,  as  you  can  by  the  turret 
to  the  right  of  the  clock,  the  gradual  transition  from  the 
Gothic  to  the  Renaissance.  The  whole  of  the  ornaments 

Copenhagen  to  be  employed  for  the  building  of  the  new  castle  ;  and  again, 
in  1552,  a  second  supply  was  sent.  Even  Laura  Maria,  the  big  bell  pur- 
chased with  the  legacy  of  Bishop  Absalom,  was  not  spared  ;  she  got  cracked 
on  the  journey,  was  melted  down  and  recast  into  two  little  ones,  which 
still  hang  in  the  clock-tower  of  Kronborg.  Laura  Maria  was  looked  upon 
almost  as  a  saint,  and  Valdemar  Atterdag,  who  believed  in  nothing,  when 
on  his  death-bed  is  said  to  have  roared  out  in  a  paroxysm  of  pain,  "  Help 
me,  Soro  !  help  me,  Esrom  !  help  me,  Laura  Maria,  you  big  bell  of 
Lund ! " 


204 


THE  CASTLE  OF  KRONBORG 


are  of  the  latter  period ;  but  there  is  still  occasionally  a  sort 
of  feeling  as  if  the  architect  was  not  quite  decided  in  his 
views  :  whether  he  was  or  not,  Kronborg  is  one  of  the  most 
perfect  specimens  of  its  era — unspoiled,  untouched,  and  un- 
repaired— to  be  met  with  in  Europe.  It  has  long  ceased  to 
be  occupied  as  a  royal  residence.  One  side  is  alone  re- 
tained for  the  use  of  His  Majesty ;  the  rest  is  occupied  by 
the  General  Commandant,  the  officers,  and  the  garrison. 
Above  the  entrance  of  the  clock-tower,  surmounting  the 
ornaments,  appears  the  head  of  a  huge  mastiff,  holding  in 
his  fore-paws  a  heart-like  shield,  with  the  cipher  of  Frederic 
II.,  and  below  the  favourite  device  of  the  King,  "  T.  I. 
W.  B.,  Treu  ist  Wiltbratt"  The  same  Wildbratt,  whose 
portrait  is  above,  was  the  favourite  of  King  Frederic,  and 
bit  everybody  save  his  royal  master.  Over  the  other  door 
appears  the  device  of  his  good  queen — good  Queen  Sophia 
of  Mecklenburg — "  Meine  Hoffnung  zu  Gott  allein " 
(My  hope  is  in  God  alone).  Within  the  dungeon  of  the 
corner  tower,  that  of  the  restoration — adjoining  the  wine- 
cellars  of  Christian  IV.,  where  a  jolly  fat  tun  carved  in  stone 
above  the  entrance  leaves  no  doubt  of  its  identity — was 
situated  the  torture-chamber  in  days  gone  by  :  none  of 
your  papistical  virgins,  who  enticed  you  to  their  arms,  and 
larded  like  a  fricandeau,  then  stuck  you  brimful  of  pen- 
knives, but  good  wholesome  Protestant  thumbscrews,  boots, 
and  wooden  horses,  and  scavengers'  daughters,  such  as 
Queen  Bess  of  glorious  memory,  and  our  earlier  Tudor 
sovereigns,  to  say  nothing  of  later  Stuarts  loved  to  employ 
on  their  rebellious  subjects  who  refused  to  convict  their 


THE  CASTLE  OF  KRONBORG 


205 


masters,  rightfully  or  wrongfully,  and  bring  them  to  the 
block — and  very  persuasive  implements  they  were,  I  doubt 
not.  In  the  centre  of  the  court  once  stood  a  fountain, 
tossing  the  water  high  in  the  air:  judging  from  the  old 
engravings,  it  must  have  been  very  ornamental.  Some  thirty 
or  forty  iron  hooks,  fastened  into  the  wall,  remain,  once 
the  larder  of  King  Frederic,  hung,  when  game  abounded, 
with  deer,  hare,  and  capercailzie — like  Bolton  Abbey  in 
the  olden  time — a  pretty  scene,  only  too  near  the  torture- 
chamber.  After  the  peace  of  1659,  when  Skaane  was  lost 
to  Denmark  forever,  the  windows  of  Kronborg  Castle, 
which  commanded  a  view  of  the  Swedish  coast,  were  walled 
up,  to  exclude  a  sight  which  caused  so  many  heart-burnings. 
In  1588  was  celebrated  in  the  Castle  of  Kronborg  the 
marriage  by  procuration  of  King  James  VI.  of  Scotland 
with  Anne,  daughter  of  King  Frederic  II.  of  Denmark. 
Anne  was  then  in  her  fifteenth  year.  Marshal  Earl  Keith 
acted  as  proxy.  This  marriage  settled  the  vexed  question 
of  the  Orkney  and  Shetland  Islands,  pawned  to  Scotland 
when  the  Princess  Margaret  married  King  James  III. 
Christian  III.  meditated  an  expedition  against  Mary  of 
Guise,  then  Regent  of  Scotland,  for  their  recovery  and  later 
offered  to  repay  the  50,000  florins  for  which  they  had  been 
pawned  ;  but  Dantzay,  by  order  of  Catherine  de'Medici, 
put  a  spoke  into  the  arrangement,  and  they  were  never  re- 
deemed. We  all  know  the  history  of  King  James's  adven- 
tures, and  how  the  real  marriage  took  place  at  Agershuus, 
in  Norway.  The  royal  couple  then  visited  Denmark  and 
passed  a  month  in  the  Castle  of  Kronborg,  where  they 


206          THE  CASTLE  OF  KRONBORG 

assisted  at  the  nuptials,  igth  April,  1590,  of  the  queen's 
elder  sister,  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  with  Henry  Duke  of 
Brunswick.  Which  were  the  apartments  occupied  by  King 
James  and  his  bride  during  his  residence  no  one  can  say — 
the  interior  of  the  building  has  been  much  altered  since  that 
period,  the  stories  divided  for  the  occupation  of  the  garrison 
—but  in  all  probability  it  was  the  suite  called  the  apart- 
ments of  Christian  IV.,  now  set  apart  for  his  present 
Majesty.  They  are  not  remarkable  for  their  size,  but  con- 
tain fine  chimney-pieces,  with  the  cipher  of  the  sovereign, 
and  the  doorways  are  ornamented  with  marble  and  richly- 
carved  ebony.  Tales  are  still  current  in  Elsinore  of  the 
drinking-bouts  held  by  King  James  and  his  brother-in- 
law,  Prince  Christian  in  the  halls  of  Kronborg — how  they 
fell  intoxicated  under  the  table,  rolled  into  the  ditch,  etc. 

On  the  exterior  of  the  castle,  called  Frederic  III.'s  battery, 
under  the  windows  of  the  upper  story,  runs  a  cornice  richly 
ornamented  in  the  style  of  the  earlier  part  of  the  Seven- 
teenth Century,  in  the  divisions  of  which  are  represented 
medallion  portraits  of  certain  personages  of  the  royal 
family  of  Denmark.  Among  them  that  of  King  James 
himself,  with  his  peaked  beard  side  by  side  with  the  full 
features  of  his  consort  Queen  Anne  :  in  the  divisions  of 
each  side  are  sculptured  two  Tudor  roses,  and  in  the 
ornamentation  of  the  cornice  is  constantly  introduced  the 
portcullis  of  the  same  family.  The  date  of  this  cornice  is 
unknown  ;  but  it  was  in  all  probability  put  up  to  commemo- 
rate the  nuptials  of  the  King  of  Scots  with  the  Princess 
Anne  of  Denmark. 


THE  CASTLE  OF  KRONBORG 


207 


Luckily  for  James  was  it  that  the  embassy  of  Lord 
Willoughby  to  Kronborg  took  place  some  few  years  before  his 
marriage,  and  that  this  Scottish  assumption  of  the  English 
badge  came  not  to  the  ears  of  the  Virgin  Queen.  Tudor 
he  was  in  all  right  by  his  ancestress  Margaret,  in  the  female 
line^  and  nearest  heir  to  the  English  throne ;  but  Elizabeth, 
when  the  succession  was  mooted,  brooked  no  child's-play. 
How  she  would  have  stormed  had  she  known  it,  and  sent  a 
fleet  perchance  to  intercept  the  return  of  James  to  his 
dominions  !  and  the  youthful  Anne  might  have  found  a 
prison  in  Fotheringay,  and  a  jailer  in  that  exceedingly  un- 
pleasant individual  Sir  Amyas  Paulet.  Such  are  the 
souvenirs  of  King  James  I  have  met  with  in  the  chronicles 
of  Kronborg. 

One  day,  when  on  an  excursion  to  the  back  slums  of  the 
town  of  Elsinore,  I  came  on  a  small  narrow  lane,  dignified 
with  the  appellation — in  honour,  I  suppose,  of  the  royal 
marriage — of  Anna  Queen  Street. 

Having  finished  with  pompous  pageants  and  royal  nup- 
tials, we  come  to  a  sadder  period  of  Kronborg  story.  Scot- 
land still  mourns  the  fate,  and  proclaims  the  innocence  of 
Mary  Stuart,  the  murdered  Queen ;  had  she  not  been  a 
Papist,  England — yes,  intolerant  England — would  have  long 
since  done  her  justice.  France,  who,  in  the  last  century, 
vented  her  venom,  her  calumny,  against  the  Autrichienne, 
now  exalts  the  memory  of  Marie  Antoinette  to  that  of  a 
saint  and  martyr.  So,  in  Denmark,  all  voices  proclaim  to- 
gether the  innocence,  and  deplore  the  fate,  of  the  youthful 
Queen  of  Christian  VII.,  our  English  princess  Caroline 


2o8          THE  CASTLE  OF  KRONBORG 

Matilda.  Here  in  Kronborg  she  was  confined  a  prisoner, 
torn  from  her  palace  in  Copenhagen,  half-dressed,  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  expecting  daily  to  suffer  the  fate  of 
Struensee  and  Brandt,  until  the  arrival  of  a  fleet  from  Eng- 
land effected  her  liberation.  Accompanied  by  the  Com- 
mandant one  morning  (General  Lunding,  the  hero  of 
Fredericia — military  men  will  tell  you  all  about  it),  I  visited 
the  apartments  in  which  she  was  confined  on  her  arrival — 
two  small  rooms  on  the  ground-floor,  one  overshadowed  by 
the  bastion,  the  other  looking  on  the  courtyard  of  the  castle. 
Later,  I  believe,  the  Commandant  placed  his  own  apart- 
ment at  her  disposal ;  and  in  the  small  octagon  closet  of  the 
lighthouse  turret,  which  terminates  the  apartments  of  Chris- 
tian IV.,  it  is  related  how  the  captive  queen  passed  hours 
and  days  with  anxious  brow  and  straining  eye,  gazing  at  the 
waters  of  the  Sound,  in  momentary  expectation  of  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  fleet  from  England,  she  having  received 
some  secret  tidings  of  its  coming.  No  relics  of  her  incar- 
ceration here  remain  :  the  ancient  furniture  of  the  palace 
was  unluckily  removed,  destroyed,  and  neglected  in  Fred- 
eric VI. 's  reign.  He  detested  Kronborg,  and  never  visited 
Elsinore  ;  these  recollections  of  his  mother's  imprisonment 
were  odious  to  him,  and  the  royal  apartments  fell  into  de- 
cay. 

The  ramparts  of  Kronborg  are  charming  :  before  them 
the  fishers  everlastingly  ply  their  trade — flounders,  and  a 
fish  called  "green-bone,"  a  horn-fish,  are  their  prey.  Had 
Shakespeare  searched  the  world  round  he  never  could 
have  selected  so  fitting  a  locality  for  the  ghost-scene.  I 


THE  CASTLE  OF  KRONBORG 


209 


can  see  the  ghost  myself — pale  moon,  clouds  flitting  o'er 
her,  frowning  castle,  and  the  space  necessary  to  follow 
him  ;  but  the  romance  of  Kronborg  is  over ;  her  bastions 
are  redolent  with  deep  purple  violets,  and  the  roseate  buds 
of  a  statice — Krigskarl,  or  the  Warrior,  they  here  call  it — 
which'looks  as  if  it  should  be  something  better,  but  will,  I 
dare  say,  turn  out  common  thrift  after  all.  When  the  fish- 
ing-boats return  at  sunset,  a  little  girl  runs  down  to  the 
shore  side,  and  waits ;  as  they  pass  by,  a  small  flounder  is 
thrown  to  her  from  each  boat ;  she  gathers  them  up  in  her 
apron,  and  then  returns  to  the  castle.- 


CHAUMONT  SUR  LOIRE 

JULES    LOISELEUR 

THOSE  whose  natures  are  sufficiently  artistic  to  seek 
that  intimate  and  sympathetic  accord  that  exists  be- 
tween human  monuments  and  their  natural  surroundings 
will  do  well  to  visit  Chaumont  on  a  fine  summer's  day  un- 
der the  rays  of  a  scorching  sun.  Those  strong  towers  built 
to  withstand  a  siege,  and  those  towers  still  so  white  after 
four  centuries,  should  stand  out  strongly  against  the  deep 
blue  of  a  July  sky  in  order  to  produce  their  full  effect. 
Then  that  gleaming  mount  from  which  the  ancient  castle 
took  its  name,  those  great  trees  that  frame  it,  and  that  lazy 
stream  sleeping  at  its  feet  attain  their  full  value.  There  is 
no  discordant  tone,  nor  any  noise  of  man  or  beast,  to  dis- 
turb the  majestic  unity  of  this  beautiful  spectacle. 

Seated  on  the  opposite  bank,  on  that  embankment  of  the 
Loire  that  goes  back  to  the  time  of  Louis  le  Debonnaire,  at 
one  glance  the  traveller  sees  a  picture  that  would  enchant  a 
painter,  from  the  Loire  that  ripples  at  his  feet,  the  white 
houses  of  the  little  village  of  Chaumont  extending  like  a 
boa  at  the  foot  of  the  castle,  pressed  in  as  it  is  between  the 
hill  and  the  river,  and  the  stone  stairway  which  by  a  hun- 
dred and  sixty  steps  ascends  the  side  of  the  hill  that 
broadens  towards  its  summit  to  give  room  for  the  little 
church  of  the  bourg  as  well  as  for  the  giant  elm  planted  by 


CHAUMONT  SUR  LOIRE  211 

Catherine  de'Medici,  to  the  castle  terrace  hanging  two 
hundred  feet  above  the  gorge,  the  carved  buttresses  of  the 
chapel  in  which  George  Amboise  dreamed  of  the  papacy, 
and  the  vanes  of  the  tower  from  which  the  widow  of  Henry 
II.  questioned  the  stars.  At  this  noon-day  hour  when  all 
nature  is  silent,  the  sun  that  turns  the  sands  of  the  stream 
into  beds  of  gold,  and  picks  out  ruby  aigrettes  in  the  rose 
windows  of  the  chapel,  casts  the  silhouettes  of  pilasters 
that  support  it  on  the  wall  of  the  gallery  that  termi- 
nates the  courtyard  of  the  castle,  giving  an  infinite  charm 
to  the  semi-gloom  of  that  gallery  and  to  the  beneficently 
shaded  steps  that  must  be  mounted  to  arrive  there. 

Those  who  love  to  arrange  effects  and  not  include  an  en- 
tire monument  in  a  single  glance  but  allow  it  time  to  some 
extent  to  present  itself  to  the  view  and  successively  reveal 
the  various  features  of  its  physiognomy,  will  do  well  to 
avoid  the  rude  stone  stairway  cut  in  the  rock  and  rather 
take  the  verdurous  avenue  that  leaves  the  road  and  leads  by 
a  lessened  though  still  steep  slope  to  the  platform  on  which 
the  castle  stands.  By  this  means,  they  will  see  it  rise  pro- 
gressively through  the  openings  of  a  clump  of  ancient  elms 
called  the  Queen's  Mall. 

Approached  on  this  side,  Chaumont  presents  itself  at  an 
angle  and  spreads  out  in  the  form  of  a  fan.  At  the  ex- 
tremity of  each  of  the  two  ribs  of  this  fan  rises  a  great 
tower,  and  the  bottom  of  the  fan  which  is  cant-shaped  is 
guarded  by  two  somewhat  smaller  towers  between  which  is 
the  main  entrance. 

From  this  disposition,  it  results  that  from  the  angle  oc- 


212  CHAUMONT  SUR   LOIRE 

cupied  by  this  gateway  the  visitor  may  include  the  four 
towers  of  the  castle  in  one  field  of  vision  :  to  the  left  is  the 
Amboise  tower,  which  is  the  highest  and  the  best  preserved  ; 
to  the  right  is  that  of  Catherine  de'Medici,  with  its  bat- 
tlements still  imprinted  with  cabalistic  signs ;  and  in  front 
are  the  two  towers  of  the  gateway.  On  these  towers  and 
on  the  walls  that  connect  them,  about  one-third  of  the  way 
up,  is  a  belt  of  carving  alternately  framing  a  mountain 
with  flames  issuing  from  its  top  and  two  C's  back  to  back, 
OC.  These  carvings  present  a  somewhat  curious  archseo- 
logical  puzzle. 

The  outer  moat,  at  the  present  day  largely  filled  up  and 
replaced  by  a  flowery  sward,  somewhat  relieves  the  heavy 
character  of  the  drawbridge  that  defends  the  entrance  to  the 
castle.  We  must  halt  upon  this  drawbridge  to  examine  the 
details  of  the  thick  oaken  door,  on  which  are  carved  the 
Twelve  Apostles,  and  the  stone  medallion  that  decorates 
the  archway.  This  medallion,  which  has  recently  been  re- 
stored, offers  a  remarkable  exception  to  the  rule  generally 
followed  in  the  Fourteenth  and  Fifteenth  Century,  when  it 
was  customary  to  carve  above  the  principal  gateway  the 
arms  of  the  family  to  whom  the  castle  belonged,  and  some- 
times the  statue  of  its  founder.  Here,  framed  by  delicate 
ornamentation,  we  see  the  initials  of  Lous  XII.  and  Anne 
of  Brittany,  his  second  wife :  the  L  on  a  ground  sewn  with 
fleurs  de  Us  and  the  A  among  the  arms  of  Brittany.  On  a 
level  with  this  medallion,  arms  are  incrusted  on  the  towers 
guarding  the  gateway  :  on  that  on  the  right  are  the  arms  of 
Georges  d'Amboise  surmounted  by  the  cardinal's  hat ;  on 


CHAUMONT  SUR  LOIRE 


213 


the  tower  on  the  left  are  those  of  his  nephew,  Charles  of 
Chaumont,  Admiral  and  Grand  Master  of  France.  It  is 
doubtless  the  latter  to  whom  all  these  sculptures  should  be 
attributed.  It  is  presumable  that  on  his  return  from  Nantes, 
where  he  had  just  espoused  the  widow  of  Charles  VIII., 
Louis  XII.  stopped  at  Chaumont  in  company  with  his  new 
wife  and  his  minister,  and  that  the  Marechale  de  Chaumont, 
to  do  honour  to  his  uncle  and  the  royal  pair,  had  this  medal- 
lion and  these  arms  carved  on  the  gateway  and  towers, 
and  therefore  they  date  from  the  year  1499. 

We  pass  the  drawbridge  and  the  gate,  leaving  on  our  left 
a  painted  gallery  full  of  luminous  shadow,  and  find  our- 
selves in  a  vast  quadrilateral  court  of  honour  surrounded  on 
three  sides'  by  bodies  of  buildings  and  having  the  fourth 
open  on  immensity.  Like  the  others,  this  fourth  side  was 
once  enclosed  by  buildings  and  flanked  by  two  towers  com- 
manding the  Loire.  These  constructions  were  razed  four 
hundred  years  ago  by  a  counsellor  of  the  Parliament  of 
Paris,  named  Berlin  de  Vaugien,  who  at  that  time  was  the 
owner  of  the  Castle.  This  man  did  an  intelligent  thing  in 
this,  but  probably  without  suspecting  it :  by  chance  it  hap- 
pened that  vandalism  had  good  taste  for  once. 

Leaning  on  the  iron  railing  that  has  taken  the  place  of 
this  fourth  body  of  buildings,  the  visitor  gazes  over  an  im- 
mense horizon  line  and  a  landscape  "  made  for  the  delight 
of  the  eyes."  In  the  foreground  are  terraces  thick  with 
flowers ;  a  little  lower  down,  through  the  stunted  trees  that 
have  thrust  themselves  through  the  clefts  in  the  rock,  peep 
the  sharp  and  symmetrical  roofs  of  the  little  village  of 


214  CHAUMONT  SUR  LOIRE 

Chaumont ;  behind  this  village  is  the  Loire  ;  behind  the 
Loire  stands  the  hamlet  of  Escures;  farther  away  is  the 
railroad,  the  black  and  wearisome  lines  of  which  lengthen 
out  on  their  gravel  bed ;  in  the  background  appear  the 
church  of  the  large  town  of  Onzain  and  the  ruins  of  the 
old  castle  in  which  Voltaire  wrote  La  Pucelle.  There  is  no 
monument,  however  fairy-like  it  might  be  imagined,  that 
would  not  be  crushed  by  such  a  frame.  Therefore  Chau- 
mont suffers  by  being  viewed  close  at  hand,  from  the  height 
of  this  magic  balcony  whence  the  work  of  divinity  reveals 
itself  with  a  splendour  that  effaces  the  finest  conceptions  of 
man. 

The  great  hall  that  comes  after  the  ante-room  contains 
nothing  remarkable  but  a  long  chest  of  carved  wood  set 
against  the  wall,  and  a  niche  around  which  are  reproduced 
the  names  or  arms  of  all  the  lords  of  Chaumont  from 
Eudes  I.,  Count  of  Blois,  who  lived  at  the  close  of  the 
Tenth  Century  and  who  consequently  had  no  arms,  to 
Vincent  Walsh,  whose  arms  are  three  lance-heads. 

A  curtain  over  a  door  is  raised  and  we  are  in  the  bed- 
chamber of  Catherine  de'Medici.  Here  the  work  of 
restoration  is  happy  and  sufficiently  complete.  Here  is  the 
bed  of  the  ambitious  Florentine,  a  bed  with  torso  columns 
the  carved  top  of  which  supports  a  royal  crown.  On  one 
side  is  the  Queen's  prie-dieu  with  her  Hours  open  ;  on  the 
other  is  her  toilette-table  with  her  opiate  boxes ;  the  whole 
is  framed  in  tapestries  of  high  gloss  which  give  to  this 
chamber  the  sombre  and  somewhat  sinister  character  that 
befits  it.  These  curious  tapestries  were  certainly  made  for 


CHA.UMONT  SUR  LOIRE 


215 


Chaumont,  since  we  see  the  Castle  reproduced  in  one  of 
their  panels.  We  suppose  that  they  date  back  to  Charles 
d'Amboise  who  rebuilt  Chaumont  towards  the  end  of  the 
reign  of  Louis  XI.,  or  at  least  to  his  son,  Marshal  Chau- 
mont, the  friend  and  companion  of  Louis  XII. 

Catherine  was  in  possession  of  Chaumont  for  nine  years, 
from  1550  to  1559,  that  is  to  say,  during  almost  the  entire 
reign  of  her  husband.  This  was  the  difficult  and  humilia- 
ting period  of  her  life ;  that  of  her  struggle  with  the  Con- 
stable Montmorency  and  Diana  of  Poictiers.  The  curious 
bahut  that  is  admired  in  this  chamber  must  have  had  many 
state  secrets  concealed  in  its  innumerable  drawers,  includ- 
ing many  plots,  baffled  or  prepared,  and  many  formidable 
projects.  This  chamber,  in  which  Catherine  nursed  her 
troubles  as  a  queen  and  an  outraged  woman,  possessed  one 
great  advantage  for  her.  She  had  at  hand  her  two  guides, 
her  two  customary  consolations, — Astrology  and  Religion. 
By  that  door  she  could  penetrate  into  the  tower  where  she 
cast  horoscopes  in  company  with  Ruggieri;  by  the  other 
one  she  could  enter  directly  into  the  chapel. 

This  pretty  chapel  forms  a  striking  contrast  with  its 
neighbouring  tower.  Just  in  proportion  as  the  chamber  in 
the  tower  is  deaf,  cold  and  dumb,  and  admits  a  sinister 
light  by  its  single  window,  pierced  in  a  wall  of  more  than 
three  metres'  thickness,  to  the  same  degree  is  the  chapel 
elegant,  coquettish  and  smiling.  Windows  of  bold  contours 
pour  a  flood  of  rosy  light  upon  the  choir,  tiled  with  white 
faience  sewn  with  blue  crosses,  producing  a  charming  effect. 
Pretty  bas-reliefs  in  oak  upon  a  gold  background  form  the 


2|6  CHAUMONT  SUR  LOIRE 

base  of  the  altar.  A  tall  and  fine  oak  chair,  carved  and 
emblazoned,  which  is  said  to  have  belonged  to  Georges 
d'Amboise,  stands  beside  the  sanctuary.  A  red  cardinal's 
hat,  attached  to  the  vault,  hangs  above  this  arm-chair. 

This  chapel  terminates  the  edifice  most  happily.  The 
apartments  that  precede  it  have  seen  many  masters  pass 
through  ;  they  recall  many  perfidies,  struggles,  and  illustrious 
and  unfortunate  existences.  After  all  this  tumult  of 
glorious  or  withered  memories,  our  mind,  like  our  eyes, 
finds  grateful  repose  in  the  smiling  and  calm  sanctuary.  It 
reaches  God  by  an  insensible  and  natural  law  of  contrast 
as  the  sole  master  who  has  not  changed  in  this  abode,  the 
sole  guest  who  has  never  left  behind  him  anything  but  good 
memories  and  consolation. 

The  Castle  of  Chaumont,  as  it  has  come  down  to  us,  is 
a  building  of  the  Fifteenth  Century.  It  was  erected  by 
Charles  Amboise  on  the  ruins  of  a  more  ancient  fortress 
razed  by  order  of  Louis  XI.  and  which  itself  had  been 
built  about  1 1 59  on  the  remains  of  a  strong  castle  destroyed 
by  Thibault  V.,  Count  of  Blois  and  Champagne.  The  first 
and  most  ancient  of  these  constructions  had  been  built 
about  908  by  Eudes  I.,  Count  of  Blois,  the  eldest  son  of 
the  celebrated  Thibault  the  Trickster. 


WINDSOR   CASTLE 

THE    MARQUIS    OF    LORNE 

FROM  out  the  dimness  of  England's  ancient  story, 
Windsor  and  Winchester,  and  Camelot  and  Caerleon 
are  raised  aloft,  lit  with  the  light  of  the  romance  of  Arthur. 
Warwick,  Dover,  and  Belvoir,  and  Alnwick  and  Conway 
and  Caernarvon,  the  tower  of  London  and  again  Windsor, 
rise  from  the  times  of  the  Norman  dominion.  Edinburgh, 
Kenilworth,  Penshurst,  and  Naworth ;  Carisbrooke,  and 
again  Windsor,  remain  in  our  sight  to  recall  most  forcibly 
the  period  when  "our  loyal  passion  for  our  temperate 
kings  "  began  to  make  these  castle-landmarks  of  our  story 
scarcer  in  the  land. 

Through  all  the  long  review  of  points  of  time  that 
challenge  observation,  Windsor  stands  the  most  enduring 
and  the  most  majestic  of  the  places  around  which  gather 
the  memories  of  all  ages  of  England's  greatness. 

In  the  valley  of  England's  famous  river  the  Normans 
built  two  strong  towers,  that  of  London  and  that  of 
Windsor.  This  stream  nursed  the  cradle  of  Norman 
power,  and  saw  the  renewed  birth  of  English  liberty,  when 
the  stranger-barons,  whose  fathers  subdued  England, 
wrung  from  their  king  the  great  charter  of  the  rights  of 
the  subject. 


2i8  WINDSOR   CASTLE 

No  wonder  William  found  the  hill  a  good  place,  for 
there  is  no  fairer  view  in  England.  That  from  Richmond 
is  not  so  extensive ;  and  at  Windsor  he  possessed  besides,  a 
grand  forest  country  for  his  sports.  His  men  could  put  off 
their  chain-mail  and  pointed  helmets  with  the  straight  face- 
guards,  and  give  chase  to  the  red  deer,  which  then  abounded 
all  over  the  country,  the  hunters  having  no  metal  about 
them  except  the  sharp,  plain  Norman  spur  on  their  heels, 
and  the  iron  on  the  tips  of  their  arrows. 

Now  the  distant  smoke  of  the  mightiest  city  in  the 
world  can  be  descried  on  the  horizon.  In  those  days  so 
rarely  was  smoke  visible,  that  signals  were  transmitted  by 
kindling  fires  at  market-places,  and  the  clear  air  knew  not 
the  fumes  that  make  the  white  river-fogs  dark-yellow  in 
colour,  and  stifling  to  breathe.  The  chequered  appearance 
of  the  nearer  landscape,  divided  by  hedgerow  and  field  to 
the  north  and  east,  is  modern ;  but  to  the  south  and  west 
the  woods  of  oak  must  present  much  their  appearance  of 
the  olden  days.  No  engineer  has  altered  the  river,  or  been 
able  even  to  abate  its  occasional  winter  floods,  which  turn 
the  banks  above  Windsor  into  a  shallow  lake.  The  further 
landscape  is  still  what  it  was.  It  is  still  a  wooded  land. 
There  are  no  sterile  patches,  no  ugly  intervals,  no  naked 
tracts  of  sand  or  earth.  All  is  green,  and  better  than  in 
the  early  days  in  this — that  the  cheerfulness  of  peace  is  on 
it,  and  the  "  stately  homes "  are  more  frequent,  and  the 
villages  need  no  rampart,  but  expand  in  security,  and,  it 
must  be  added,  often  with  a  system  of  architecture  to 
which  distance  alone  can  lend  enchantment. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE  219 

The  Castle  was  very  strong.  These  keeps  were  built  so 
that  there  was  no  chance  of  a  surprise.  Massive  gates 
placed  in  security  beyond  deep  ditches  were  let  into  the 
walls,  well  defended  by  battlement  and  flanking  towers. 
Drawbridges  and  portcullises  might  be  forced,  but  there 
the  enemy  only  found  himself  at  the  beginning  of  his 
work. 

Narrow  passages  led  to  other  defences,  and  the  keep 
itself  was  reached  by  a  stair  so  narrow  that  one  man  only 
could  enter  at  a  time. 

The  walls  of  the  lowest  story  showed  only  tiny  shot-  or 
loop-holes.  The  second  story  showed  more  of  these,  but 
so  narrow  that  no  torch  could  be  thrown  in.  The  third 
story  had  windows  so  high  in  the  wall  that  arrows  or  bolts 
shot  from  below  could  only  hit  the  arch  of  the  opening,  to 
fall  back  harmless. 

The  top  stories  were  filled  with  weapons  that  could 
throw  darts,  stones,  and  heavy  balls,  so  assailants  could  not 
easily  take  a  Norman  keep. 

The  Normans  had  taste  as  well  as  strength,  and  gradually 
the  whole  neighbourhood  was  made  more  beautiful.  During 
reign  after  reign  the  kings  showered  favours  on  their  finest 
possession. 

Around  the  Keep  arose  a  Central  Ward — that  is  the 
space  outside  was  enclosed  with  towers  and  walls  and 
gardens.  Then  lower  down  the  ridge  another  king  built  a 
church,  and  beyond  it  again  other  great  towers,  as  the  town 
arose,  under  the  Castle's  shelter  and  protection.  This  part 
was  again  flanked  and  made  strong,  and  called  the  Lower 


220  WINDSOR  CASTLE 

Ward.  The  church  was  dedicated  first  to  St.  Edmond,  and 
then  to  St.  George. 

But  on  the  other  side  of  the  Keep  the  monarchs  built 
themselves  something  in  the  way  of  lodging  far  better  than 
the  small  rooms  of  the  Keep,  for  a  wide  range  of  palace 
apartments  existed  there  before  even  the  days  of  the  Tudors. 
These  were  extended  and  improved  from  the  days  of  Queen 
Elizabeth  to  the  days  of  Queen  Victoria.  These  buildings 
formed  the  Upper  Ward. 

The  effect  of  this  mass  of  buildings,  dominated  by  the 
Round  Tower,  is  very  fine,  and  no  better  example  exists  of 
the  feudal  fortress.  Whether  seen  from  the  river,  with  the 
red-roofed  houses  of  the  town  clustered  below  the  great 
white  walls,  or  from  the  park,  where  Windsor  rises  like  an 
enchanted  castle  above  the  wide  greensward,  which  is 
varied  with  the  groves  of  ancient  oak  and  beech,  there  is 
nothing  to  compare  with  it. 

All  who  speak  the  English  tongue  may  be  equally  proud 
of  the  palace  strength  of  their  great  forefathers. 

Chambers  built  over  castle  gateways  were  often  used 
as  prisons  for  those  whose  lot  was  not  to  be  made  too  hard. 
For  the  unfortunates  who  were  to  be  severely  dealt  with,  a 
far  more  horrible  prison  was  provided  in  the  shape  of  a 
dungeon  with  a  narrow  orifice  above,  through  which  the 
victim  was  let  down  with  cords  into  a  vault,  having  often 
no  windows.  Places  like  this  must  have  soon  become  foul 
and  fatal  to  the  captives. 

At  Windsor  there  is  a  very  fair  prison  above  the  gate- 
way, through  which  you  must  pass  before  entering  the  great 


WINDSOR  CASTLE  221 

stair  that  climbs  the  mound  of  the  Keep.  Although  the 
windows  are  narrow  they  give  light  enough,  and  on  the 
walls  are  the  names  of  the  men  who  here,  in  their  durance 
vile,  amused  themselves  by  writing  their  name  or  making 
their  mark  by  scratches  on  the  stone.  Sometimes  they 
added  a  little  tracing  of  their  arms. 

These  small  rooms  are  among  the  few  which  remain  ex- 
actly as  they  existed  in  the  Middle  Ages.  In  other  apart- 
ments there  has  been  much  alteration.  Most  of  the  ceilings 
of  Verrio  are  gone,  the  ancient  tapestries  have  been  removed, 
the  heavy  ornamentation  of  the  times  of  the  Georges,  and 
almost  all  the  still  ponderous  yet  better  decorations  of 
Jacobean  times,  have  disappeared. 

But  the  towers  which  held  celebrated  prisoners  of  State 
are  yet  pointed  out.  The  two  most  notable  are  just  under 
the  hill  on  which  the  great  round  Keep  is  built.  One  of 
these  has  been  raised  high,  and  a  very  narrow  stair  com- 
municates with  each  of  its  little  rooms.  Here  King  John 
of  France  had  many  a  long  hour  in  which  to  repent  of  his 
bad  generalship  at  Poictiers,  where  the  young  Black  Prince 
took  him  prisoner.  Here  he  was  brought  after  that  ride 
through  the  streets  of  London,  which  must  have  been  to 
him  so  humiliating,  although  he  was  shown  much  courtesy 
by  his  captor. 

It  was  the  opposite  tower  across  the  Upper  Ward,  with 
better  accommodations  that  Henry  V.  of  England  assigned 
to  the  use  of  the  young  King  of  Scotland,  who  had  been 
illegally  captured  during  a  time  of  truce.  Young  James  of 
Scotland's  uncle,  the  old  Duke  of  Albany,  was  not  sup- 


222  WINDSOR  CASTLE 

posed  to  be  particularly  sorry  to  have  his  sovereign  and 
nephew  kept  in  England,  for  it  gave  Albany  all  power 
in  Scotland.  So  at  Windsor  James  remained  for  nearly 
twenty  years,  becoming  expert  in  literature  and  in  knightly 
exercises. 

The  English  were  kind  to  him,  and  it  was  from  this 
building  of  his  captivity,  now  called  Edward  the  Third's 
Tower,  that  he  saw  his  future  Queen,  a  daughter  of  the 
House  of  Beaufort,  walking  in  the  garden  at  the  base  of  the 
Keep. 

His  long  residence  in  England  was  beneficial  to  James 
in  many  ways,  and  when  he  was  at  last  allowed  to  return 
to  his  northern  kingdom,  he  entered  it  the  most  accom- 
plished knight  of  his  time.  He  was  much  beloved  by  the 
English,  with  whom  he  managed,  when  on  the  throne, 
to  keep  on  fair  terms.  His  reign  was  illustrious,  and 
worthy  of  a  better  close  than  that  of  the  tragic  assassination 
by  which  it  was  ended. 

We  need  not  think  of  all  the  terrible  things  that  have 
happened  at  Windsor  Castle — of  prisoners  dying  by  inches 
in  dark  dungeons ;  of  men  mutilated  for  treason,  like  the 
Earl  of  Eu ;  of  the  rare  attacks  the  Castle  has  been  called 
to  endure  ;  of  the  ruin  wrought  in  glorious  chapel  and  halls 
by  Cromwell's  soldiery.  For  Windsor  has  chiefly  been  as- 
sociated with  the  brighter  and  more  cheery  events  of  the 
national  life. 

Here,  more  often  than  in  any  other  royal  home,  were  the 
joy-bells  rung  for  the  births  and  marriages  of  our  princes  ; 
although  here,  too,  the  funeral  knell  has  also  been  often 


WINDSOR  CASTLE  223 

heard ;  for  it  is  the  tomb,  as  it  is  the  dwelling-place,  of  the 
monarchs  of  England. 

The  most  daring  and  most  romantic  of  the  Constables  of 
the  Round  Tower,  the  fiery  Prince  Rupert,  made  his  rooms 
beautiful  with  pictures,  with  tapestry,  and  with  ornament. 
At  once  an  artist  and  a  warrior,  such  as  few  countries  have 
produced,  he  lived  to  see  the  palace  a  prey  to  the  spoiler. 

Earlier  as  well  as  later  days  are  recalled  by  the  buildings 
below,  which  are  now  devoted  to  the  library.  They  over- 
look the  Thames  and  England's  great  school  of  Eton. 
From  their  windows  one  gazes  across  the  river  far  below, 
on  the  roofs  and  towers  of  the  college  founded  by  Henry  VI. 

Between  the  groups  of  houses  and  the  thickly-scattered 
trees  one  may  catch  glimpses  of  bands  of  boys  in  the  dis- 
tance playing  football  or  cricket,  or  rowing  on  the  Thames. 
The  poet  Gray,  looking  on  the  same  cheerful  scene,  wrote 
gloomily,  "  Alas !  regardless  of  their  doom,  the  little  vic- 
tims play."  Well,  they  are  fortunate  victims,  and  the  men 
who  have  been  at  school  there  would  gladly  live  over  again 
the  years  they  spent  at  Eton. 

It  was  in  this  part  of  the  Castle  that  Queen  Elizabeth 
lived  and  moved  and  had  her  imperious  being.  It  was  in 
a  little  chamber  in  a  turret  here  that  Queen  Anne  received 
the  despatch  from  Marlborough  wishing  her  joy  on  the  vic- 
tory of  Blenheim.  He  wrote  on  a  scrap  of  paper  from  the 
field,  "  Your  Majesty's  troops  have  had  a  great  victory,  and 
Marshall  Tallard  is  in  my  coach."  He  had,  with  Prince 
Eugene,  achieved  one  of  the  most  fruitful  successes  of  that 
reign  of  victories. 


224 


WINDSOR  CASTLE 


The  old  look  of  a  fortress  has  given  way  to  that  of  the 
palace,  fearing  no  foeman  ;  and  long  may  this  be  so  !  But 
the  Castle  could  be  made  strong  against  everything  save 
long-range  artillery.  The  walls  could  contain  a  large  force, 
and  its  underground  apartments  have  the  solidity  of  bomb- 
proof. Sentries  pace  its  ramparts,  and  a  regiment  of  guards 
is  also  at  hand. 

Nor  is  it  dependent  for  water  on  river  or  outside  supply. 
Not  long  ago  a  room  in  the  Round  Tower  was  complained 
of  as  always  cold.  The  floor  was  taken  up,  and  there  lay 
a  vast  circular  stone  with  great  iron  rings.  By  these  it  was 
lifted,  and  a  deep,  carefully-constructed  Norman  well  was 
discovered,  going  down  to  the  level  of  the  Thames  itself. 

The  interior  of  the  group  of  rooms  extending  from  the 
north  side  of  the  Norman  Gate  to  the  angle  at  which  the 
red-coated  porters  await  visitors,  now  devoted  to  a  fine  li- 
brary, is  not  always  shown.  But  for  those  who  have  leave, 
a  most  interesting  collection  of  medals,  illuminated  manu- 
scripts, ancient  buildings,  and  Oriental  miniatures,  is  dis- 
played. Handsome  Elizabethan  chimney-pieces,  on  one  of 
which  the  great  Queen  herself  is  represented,  warm  the 
north  wall.  The  windows  on  the  other,  embayed  in 
presses  full  of  well-arranged  literature,  look  out  towards 
that  far-off  church,  the  spire  of  which  is  easily  recognised 
through  glass,  where  Gray  wrote  his  immortal  Elegy.  One 
little  room  is  that  in  which  Queen  Anne  was  sitting  when 
Marlborough's  despatch  announcing  the  victory  of  Blen- 
heim was  brought  to  her. 

Where  the  library  ends  is  the  first  of  a  set  of  splendid 


WINDSOR  CASTLE 


225 


apartments,  used  only  by  the  public  and  the  greatest  sov- 
ereigns. Paintings  by  Zuccarelli,  who,  at  his  best,  is 
always  most  pleasing,  are  hung  over  cabinets  containing 
very  beautiful  porcelain.  Onwards,  on  the  north  side, 
room  after  room  can  be  most  profitably  examined,  for  the 
pictures  are  of  particular  interest,  either  on  account  of  their 
history  or  their  art.  Formerly  the  Sovereign's  family  lived 
in  this  part  of  the  Castle.  Now  they  live  on  the  southern 
side  of  the  Upper  Ward,  where  dwelt  in  other  days  the 
great  officers  of  state. 


THE  PALACE  OF  URBINO 

JOHN    ADDINGTON    SYMONDS 

THE  sunset  was  almost  spent,  and  a  four  days'  moon 
hung  above  the  Western  Apennines,  when  we  took 
our  first  view  of  the  palace.  It  is  a  fancy-thralling  work  of 
wonder  seen  in  that  dim  twilight;  like  some  castle  reared 
by  Atlante's  magic  for  imprisonment  of  Ruggiero,  or  palace 
sought  in  fairyland  by  Astolf  winding  his  enchanted  horn. 
Where  shall  we  find  its  like,  combining,  as  it  does,  the 
buttressed  battlemented  bulk  of  mediaeval  strongholds  with 
the  airy  balconies,  suspended  gardens,  and  fantastic  turrets 
of  Italian  pleasure-houses  ?  This  unique  blending  of  the 
feudal  past  with  the  Renaissance  spirit  of  the  time  when  it 
was  built,  connects  it  with  the  art  of  Ariosto — or  more  ex- 
actly with  Boiardo's  epic.  Duke  Federigo  planned  his 
palace  at  Urbino  just  at  the  moment  when  the  Count  of 
Scandiano  had  begun  to  chaunt  his  lays  of  Roland  in  the 
Castle  of  Ferrara.  Chivalry,  transmuted  by  the  Italian 
genius  into  something  fanciful  and  quaint,  survived  as  a 
frail  work  of  art.  The  man-at-arms  of  the  Condottieri 
still  glittered  in  gilded  hauberks.  Their  helmets  waved 
with  plumes  and  bizarre  crests.  Their  surcoats  blazed 
with  heraldries ;  their  velvet  caps  with  medals  bearing 
legendary  emblems.  The  pomp  and  circumstance  of  feu- 
dal war  had  not  yet  yielded  to  the  cannon  of  the  Gascon  or 
the  Switzer's  pike.  The  fatal  age  of  foreign  invasions  had 


THE   PALACE  OF   URB1NO,   ITALY. 


THE  PALACE  OF  URBINO 


227 


not  begun  for  Italy.  Within  a  few  years  Charles  VIII. 's 
holiday  excursion  would  reveal  the  internal  rottenness  and 
weakness  of  her  rival  states,  and  the  peninsula  for  half  a 
century  to  come  would  be  drenched  in  the  blood  of  French- 
men, Germans,  Spaniards,  fighting  for  her  cities  as  their 
prey.  But  now  Lorenzo  de'Medici  was  still  alive.  The 
famous  policy  which  bears  his  name  held  Italy  suspended 
for  a  golden  time  in  false  tranquillity  and  independence. 
The  princes  who  shared  his  culture  and  his  love  of  art  were 
gradually  passing  into  modern  noblemen,  abandoning  the 
savage  feuds  and  passions  of  more  virile  centuries,  yielding 
to  luxury  and  scholarly  enjoyments.  The  castles  were  be- 
coming courts,  and  despotisms  won  by  force  were  settling 
into  dynasties. 

It  was  just  at  this  epoch  that  Duke  Federigo  built  his 
castle  at  Urbino.  One  of  the  ablest  and  wealthiest  Con- 
dottieri  of  his  time,  one  of  the  best  instructed  and  humanest 
of  Italian  princes,  he  combined  in  himself  the  qualities 
which  mark  that  period  of  transition.  And  these  he  im- 
pressed upon  his  dwelling-house,  which  looks  backward  to 
the  mediaeval  fortalice  and  forward  to  the  modern  palace. 
This  makes  it  the  just  embodiment  in  architecture  of  Italian 
romance,  the  perfect  analogue  of  the  "  Orlando  Innamorato" 
By  comparing  it  with  the  castle  of  the  Estes  at  Ferrara  and 
the  Palazzo  del  Te  of  the  Gonzagas  at  Mantua,  we  place 
it  in  its  right  position  between  mediaeval  and  Renaissance 
Italy,  between  the  age  when  principalities  arose  upon  the 
ruins  of  commercial  independence  and  the  age  when  they 
became  dynastic  under  Spain. 


228  THE  PALACE  OF  URBINO 

The  exigencies  of  the  ground  at  his  disposal  forced 
Federigo  to  give  the  building  an  irregular  outline.  The 
fine  facade,  with  its  embayed  loggie  and  flanking  turrets,  is 
placed  too  close  upon  the  city  ramparts  for  its  due  effect. 
We  are  obliged  to  cross  the  deep  ravine  which  separates  it 
from  a  lower  quarter  of  the  town,  and  take  our  station 
near  the  Oratory  of  S.  Giovanni  Battista,  before  we  can 
appreciate  the  beauty  of  its  design,  or  the  boldness  of  the 
group  it  forms  with  the  cathedral  dome  and  tower  and 
square  masses  of  numerous  out-buildings.  Yet  this  peculiar 
position  of  the  palace,  though  baffling  to  a  close  observer 
of  its  details,  is  one  of  singular  advantage  to  its  inhabitants. 
Set  on  the  verge  of  Urbino's  towering  eminence,  it  fronts  a 
wave-tossed  sea  of  vales  and  mountain  summits  towards 
the  rising  and  the  setting  sun.  There  is  nothing  but 
illimitable  air  between  the  terraces  and  loggias  of  the 
Duchess's  apartments  and  the  spreading  pyramid  of  Monte 
Catria. 

A  nobler  scene  is  nowhere  swept  from  palace  windows 
than  this,  which  Castiglione  touched  in  a  memorable  passage 
at  the  end  of  his  Cortegiano.  To  one  who  in  our  day 
visits  Urbino,  it  is  singular  how  the  slight  indications  of 
this  sketch,  as  in  some  silhouette,  bring  back  the  antique 
life,  and  link  the  present  with  the  past — a  hint,  perhaps, 
for  reticence  in  our  descriptions.  The  gentlemen  and 
ladies  of  the  court  had  spent  a  summer  night  in  long  debate 
on  love,  rising  to  the  height  of  mystical  Platonic  rapture  on 
the  lips  of  Bembo,  when  one  of  them  exclaimed,  "  The 
day  has  broken  !  "  "  He  pointed  to  the  light  which  was 


THE  PALACE  OF  URBINO 


229 


beginning  to  enter  by  the  fissures  of  the  windows.  Where- 
upon we  flung  the  casements  wide  upon  that  side  of  the 
palace  which  looks  towards  the  high  peak  of  Monte  Catria, 
and  saw  that  a  fair  dawn  of  rosy  hue  was  born  already  in 
the  eastern  skies,  and  all  the  stars  had  vanished  except  the 
sweet  regent  of  the  heaven  of  Venus,  who  holds  the  border- 

O  ' 

lands  of  day  and  night ;  and  from  her  sphere  it  seemed  as 
though  a  gentle  wind  were  breathing,  filling  the  air  with 
^eager  freshness,  and  waking  among  the  numerous  woods 
upon  the  neighbouring  hills  the  sweet-toned  symphonies  of 
joyous  birds." 

Duke  Frederick  began  the  palace  at  Urbino  in  1454, 
when  he  was  still  only  Count.  The  architect  was  Luziano 
of  Lauranna,  a  Dalmatian,  and  the  beautiful  white  lime- 
stone, hard  as  marble,  used  in  the  construction,  was  brought 
from  the  Dalmatian  coast.  This  stone,  like  the  Istrian 
stone  of  Venetian  buildings,  takes  and  retains  the  chisel 
mark  with  wonderful  precision.  It  looks  as  though,  when 
fresh,  it  must  have  had  the  pliancy  of  clay,  so  delicately  are 
the  finest  curves  in  scroll  or  foliage  scooped  from  its 
substance.  And  yet  it  preserves  each  cusp  and  angle  of 
the  most  elaborate  pattern  with  the  crispness  and  the  sharp- 
ness of  a  crystal.  When  wrought  by  a  clever  craftsman, 
its  surface  has  neither  the  waxiness  of  the  Parian,  nor  the 
brittle  edge  of  Carrara  marble  ;  and  it  resists  weather  better 
than  marble  of  the  choicest  quality.  This  may  be  observed 
in  many  monuments  of  Venice,  where  the  stone  has  been 
long  exposed  to  sea-air.  These  qualities  of  the  Dalmatian 
limestone,  no  less  than  its  agreeable  creamy  hue  and  smooth 


230  THE  PALACE  OF  URBINO 

dull  polish,  adapt  it  to  decoration  in  dull  relief.  The  most 
attractive  details  in  the  palace  at  Urbino  are  friezes  carved 
of  this  material  in  choice  designs  of  early  Renaissance 
dignity  and  grace.  One  chimney-piece  in  the  Sala  degli 
Angeli  deserves  special  comment.  A  frieze  of  dancing 
Cupids,  with  gilt  hair  and  wings,  their  naked  bodies  left 
white  on  a  ground  of  ultramarine,  is  supported  by  broad  flat 
pilasters.  These  are  engraved  with  children  holding  pots 
of  flowers  ;  roses  on  one  side,  carnations  on  the  'other. 
Above  the  frieze  another  pair  of  angels,  one  at  each  end, 
hold  lighted  torches  ;  and  the  pyramidal  cap  of  the  chimney 
is  carved  with  two  more,  flying,  and  supporting  the  eagle  of 
the  Montefeltri  on  a  raised  medallion.  Throughout  the 
palace  we  notice  emblems  appropriate  to  the  Houses  of 
Montefeltro  and  Delia  Rovere  :  their  arms,  three  golden 
bends  upon  a  field  of  azure :  the  Imperial  eagle,  granted 
when  Montefeltro  was  made  a  fief  of  the  Empire  :  The 
Garter  of  England,  worn  by  the  Dukes  Federigo  and 
Guidobaldo  :  The  ermine  of  Naples  :  the  ventosa,  or  cup- 
ping-glass, adopted  for  a  private  badge  by  Frederick  :  the 
golden  oak-tree  on  an  azure  field  of  Delia  Rovere  :  the 
palm-tree,  bent  beneath  a  block  of  stone,  with  its  accom- 
panying motto,  Inclinata  Resurgam :  the  cipher,  F'E  DX. 
Profile  medallions  of  Federigo  and  Guidobaldo,  wrought  in 
the  lowest  possible  relief,  adorn  the  staircases.  Round  the 
great  courtyard  runs  a  frieze  of  military  engines  and  ensigns, 
trophies,  machines,  and  implements  of  war,  alluding  to 
Duke  Frederick's  profession  of  Condottiere.  The  door- 
ways are  enriched  with  scrolls  of  heavy-headed  flowers, 


THE   PALACE  OF  URBINO 


231 


acanthus  foliage,  honey-suckles,  ivy-berries,  birds  and  boys 
and  sphinxes,  in  all  the  riot  of  Renaissance  fancy. 

This  profusion  of  sculptured  rilievo  is  nearly  all  that  re- 
mains to  show  how  rich  the  palace  was  in  things  of  beauty. 
Castiglione,  writing  in  the  reign  of  Guidobaldo,  says  that 
"  in  the  opinion  of  many  it  is  the  fairest  to  be  found  in  Italy  ; 
and  the  Duke  filled  it  so  well  with  all  things  fitting  its  mag- 
nificence, that  it  seemed  less  like  a  palace  than  a  city.  Not 
only  did  he  collect  articles  of  common  use,  vessels  of  sil- 
ver, the  trappings  for  chambers  t>f  rare  cloths  of  gold  and 
silk,  and  such-like  furniture,  but  he  added  multitudes  of 
bronze  and  marble  statues,  exquisite  pictures,  and  instru- 
ments of  music  of  all  sorts.  There  was  nothing  but  was 
of  the  finest  and  most  excellent  quality  to  be  seen  there. 
Moreover,  he  gathered  together  at  a  vast  cost  a  large  num- 
ber of  the  best  and  rarest  books  on  Greek,  Latin,  and  He- 
brew, all  of  which  he  adorned  with  gold  and  silver,  esteem- 
ing them  the  chiefest  treasure  of  his  spacious  palace." 
When  Cesare  Borgia  entered  Urbino  as  conqueror  in  1502, 
he  is  said  to  have  carried  ofF  loot  to  the  value  of  150,000 
ducats,  or  perhaps  about  a  quarter  of  a  million  sterling. 

The  impression  left  upon  the  mind  after  traversing  this 
palace  in  its  length  and  breadth  is  one  of  weariness  and  dis- 
appointment. How  shall  we  reconstruct  the  long-past  life 
which  filled  its  rooms  with  sound,  the  splendour  of  its 
pageants,  the  thrill  of  tragedies  enacted  here  ?  It  is  not 
difficult  to  crowd  its  doors  and  vacant  spaces  with  liveried 
servants,  slim  pages  in  tight  hose,  whose  well-combed  hair 
escapes  from  tiny  caps  upon  their  silken  shoulders.  We 


232 


THE  PALACE  OF  URBINO 


may  even  replace  the  tapestries  of  Troy  which  hung  one 
hall,  and  build  again  the  sideboards  with  their  embossed 
gilded  plate.  But  are  these  chambers  really  those  where 
Emilia  Pia  held  debate  on  love  with  Bemboand  Casti'ghone ; 
where  Bibbiena's  witticisms  and  Fra  Serafino's  pranks  raised 
smiles  on  courtly  lips ;  where  Bernardo  Accolti,  "  the 
Unique,"  declaimed  his  verses  to  applauding  crowds  ?  Is  it 
possible  that  into  yonder  hall,  where  now  the  lion  of  S. 
Mark  looks  down  alone  on  staring  desolation,  strode  the 
Borgia  in  all  his  panoply  of  war,  a  gilded  glittering  dragon, 
and  from  the  dais  tore  the  Montefeltri's  throne,  and  from 
the  arras  stripped  their  ensigns,  replacing  those  with  his  own 
Bull  and  Valentinus  Dux  ?  Here  Tasso  tuned  his  lyre  for 
Francesco  Maria's  wedding-feast  and  read  Amlnta  to 
Lucrezia  d'Este.  Here  Guidobaldo  listened  to  the  jests 
and  whispered  scandals  of  the  Aretine.  Here  Titian  set 
his  easel  up  to  paint;  here  the  boy  Raphael,  cap  in  hand, 
took,  signed  and  sealed  credentials  from  his  Duchess  to  the 
Gonfalonier  of  Florence.  Somewhere  in  these  huge 
chambers,  the  courtiers  sat  before  a  torch-lit  stage,  when 
Bibbiena's  Calandria  and  Castiglione's  7/rj/,,with  their 
miracles  of  masques  and  mummers,  whiled  the  night  away. 
Somewhere,  we  know  not  where,  Guiliano  de'Medici  made 
love  in  these  bare  rooms  to  that  mysterious  mother  of  ill- 
fated  Cardinal  Ippolito;  somewhere,  in  some  darker  nook, 
the  bastard  Alessandro  sprang  to  his  strange-fortuned  life  of 
tyranny  and  license,  which  Brutus-Lorenzino  cut  short 
with  a  traitor's  poignard-thrust  in  Via  Larga.  How  many 
men,  illustrious  for  arts  and  letters,  memorable  by  their 


THE  PALACE  OF  URBINO  233 

virtues  or  their  crimes,  have  trod  these  silent  corridors, 
from  the  great  Pope  Julius  down  to  James  III.,  self-titled 
King  of  England,  who  tarried  here  with  Clementina 
Sobieski  through  some  twelve  months  of  his  ex-royal  exile  ! 
The  memories  of  all  this  folk,  flown  guests  and  masters  of 
the  still-abiding  palace-chambers,  haunt  us  as  we  hurry 
through.  They  are  but  filmy  shadows.  We  cannot  grasp 
them,  localize  them,  people  surrounding  emptiness  with 
more  than  withering  cobweb  forms. 

It  is  easier  to  conjure  up  the  past  of  this  great  palace, 
strolling  round  it  in  free  air  and  twilight ;  perhaps  because 
the  landscape  and  the  life  still  moving  on  the  city  streets 
bring  its  exterior  into  harmony  with  real  existence.  The 
southern  facade,  with  its  vaulted  balconies  and  flanking 
towers,  takes  the  fancy,  fascinates  the  eye,  and  lends  itself 
as  a  fit  stage  for  puppets  of  the  musing  mind.  Once  more 
imagination  plants  trim  orange-trees  in  giant  jars  of  Gubbio 
ware  upon  the  pavement  where  the  garden  of  the  Duchess 
lay — the  pavement  paced  in  these  bad  days  by  convicts  in 
grey  canvas  jackets — that  pavement  where  Monsignor 
Bembo  courted  "  dear  dead  women  "  with  Platonic  phrase, 
smothering  the  Menta  of  his  natural  man  in  lettuce  culled 
from  Academe  and  thyme  of  Mount  Hymettus.  In  yonder 
loggia,  lifted  above  the  garden  and  the  court,  two  lovers  are 
in  earnest  converse.  They  lean  beneath  the  coffered  arch, 
against  the  marble  of  the  balustrade,  he  fingering  his  dagger 
under  the  dark  velvet  doublet,  she  playing  with  a  clove  car- 
nation, deep  as  her  own  shame.  The  man  is  Giannandrea, 
broad-shouldered  bravo  of  Verona,  Duke  Guidobaldo's  fa- 


234 


THE  PALACE  OF  URBINO 


vourite  and  carpet-count.  The  lady  is  Madonna  Maria, 
daughter  of  Rome's  Prefect,  widow  of  Venanzio  Verano, 
whom  the  Borgia  strangled.  On  their  discourse  a  tale  will 
hang  of  a  woman's  frailty  and  a  man's  boldness — Camer- 
ino's  Duchess  yielding  to  a  low-born  suitor's  stalwart 
charms.  And  more  will  follow,  when  that  lady's  brother, 
furious  Francesco  Maria  della  Rovere,  shall  stab  the  bravo 
in  torch-litten  palace-rooms  with  twenty  poignard  strokes 
'twixt  waist  and  throat,  and  their  Pandarus  shall  be  sent 
down  to  his  account  by  a  varlet's  coltellata  through  the  mid- 
riff. Imagination  shifts  the  scene,  and  shows  in  that  same 
loggia  Rome's  warlike  Pope,  attended  by  his  cardinals  and 
all  Urbino's  chivalry.  The  snowy  beard  of  Julius  flows 
down  upon  his  breast,  where  jewels  clasp  the  crimson 
mantle,  as  in  Raphael's  picture.  His  eyes  are  bright  with 
wine  ;  for  he  has  come  to  gaze  on  sunset  from  the  banquet- 
chamber  and  to  watch  the  line  of  lamps  which  soon  will 
leap  along  that  palace  cornice  in  his  honour.  Behind  him 
lies  Bologna  humbled.  The  Pope  returns,  a  conqueror  to 
Rome.  Yet  once  again  imagination  is  at  work.  A  gaunt, 
bold  man,  close-habited  in  Spanish  black,  his  spare,  fine 
features  carved  in  purest  ivory,  leans  from  that  balcony. 
Gazing  with  hollow  eyes,  he  tracks  the  swallows  in  their 
flight,  and  notes  that  winter  is  at  hand.  This  is  the  last 
Duke  of  Urbino,  Francesco  Maria  II.,  he  whose  young 
wife  deserted  him,  who  made  for  himself  alone  a  hermit- 
pedant's  round  of  petty  cares  and  niggard  avarice  and  mean 
brained  superstition.  He  drew  a  second  consort  from  the 
convent,  and  raised  up  seed  unto  his  line  by  forethought, 


THE   PALACE  OF  URBINO 

but  beheld  his  princeling  fade  untimely  in  the  bloom  of 
boyhood.  Nothing  is  left  but  solitude.  To  the  mortmain 
of  the  Church  reverts  Urbino's  lordship,  and  even  now  he 
meditates  the  terms  of  devolution.  Jesuits  cluster  in  the 
rooms  behind,  with  comfort  for  the  ducal  soul  and  calcula- 
tions for  the  interests  of  Holy  See. 

Filippo  Visconti,  with  a  smile  on  his  handsome  face,  is 
waiting  for  us  at  the  inn.     His  horses  sleek,  well-fed,  and 

O  99 

rested,  toss  their  heads  impatiently.  We  take  our  seats  in 
the  carriage,  open  wide  beneath  a  sparkling  sky,  whirl  past 
the  palace  and  its  ghost-like  recollections,  and  are  half-way 
on  the  road  to  Fossombrone  in  a  cloud  of  dust  and  whir  of 
wheels  before  we  think  of  looking  back  to  greet  Urbino. 
There  is  just  time.  The  last  decisive  turning  lies  in  front. 
We  stand  bareheaded  to  salute  the  grey  mass  of  buildings 
ridged  along  the  sky.  Then  the  open  road  invites  us  with 
its  varied  scenery  and  movement. 


ALNWICK   CASTLE 

CUTHBERT  BEDE 

A  LNWICK  is  built  on  the  summit  of  the  southern 
Jt\_  bank  of  the  Aln,  on  a  plateau  of  five  acres  of 
ground,  walled  round  with  strong  fortifications,  defended  by 
sixteen  towers,  and  divided  into  two  large  courtyards,  with 
the  Keep  in  the  midst.  The  Keep  is  polygonal  in  form, 
faced  by  nine  towers,  and  is  built  round  a  third,  or  inner 
court.  We  have  the  northern  side  of  the  second 'court- 
yard, with  the  Round  (or  Record)  Tower;  next  to  that  is 
the  abutment,  called  the  Ravine  Tower,  in  whose  recess  is 
the  stone  seat  called  "  Hotspur's  Chair,"  and  between 
which  and  the  Record  Tower  is  "  the  Bloody  Gap,"-^ 
name  given  to  that  part  of  the  curtain-wall  from  a  breach 
being  there  made  by  the  Scots  during  some  Border  war,  in  a 
vain  effort  to  capture  the  castle.  Three  hundred  Scots  are 
said  to  have  fallen  there,  and  the  extent  of  "  the  Bloody 
Gap  "  is  plainly  to  be  discerned  from  the  variations  in  the 
masonry.  We  then  come  to  the  Constable's  Tower,  and 
the  Postern  Tower,  or  Sally  Port,  and  then  to  the  Keep 
itself,  which  was  protected  by  a  low  curtain-wall,  carried  in 
a  semicircle  to  the  Armourer's  Tower  and  the  Falconer's 
Tower.  These  are  the  two  towers  lately  swept  away 
(together  with  their  curtain-wall)  in  order  to  accommodate 
the  arrangements  consequent  upon  the  erection  of  the 


ALNWICK  CASTLE 

Prudhoe  Tower,  for  which  also  the  two  north-western 
round  towers  of  the  Keep  were  also  destroyed.  One  of 
these  towers  contains  the  ancient  banqueting-hall  of  the 
Percies  ;  and  the  successive  sacrifice  of  these  four  towers 
with  their  many  interesting  evidences  of  feudal  times,  in 
order  that  the  modern  Italian  interior  of  the  castle  might 
not  be  interfered  with,  has  raised  a  storm  of  discussion 
among  such  distinguished  architects  as  Scott,  Cockerell, 
Donaldson,  Godwin,  Pocock,  Ferguson,  and  Salvin,  under 
whom  the  recently  completed  works  have  been  carried  out, 
chiefly  from  the  designs  of  Commendatore  Canina.  These 
works  have  been  hailed  with  applause,  and  hailed  upon  with 
disapprobation.  It  is  an  example  of  one  of  those  Sir 
Roger  de  Coverley  cases,  where  much  may  be  said  on  both 
sides.  In  the  last  six  years  these  works  have  magically 
transformed  the  interior  of  the  feudal  castle  of  the  chival- 
rous Earls  of  Northumberland  (much  debased,  it  is  true,  by 
Batty-Langley  and  Strawberry-Hill  Gothic)  into  a  Roman 
palazzo,  with  the  most  gorgeous  and  costly  decorations  of 
the.  Renaissance.  For  six  years  have  two  hundred  work- 
men been  employed  in  these  alterations;  much  has  been 
done  at  Rome,  and  much  on  the  spot,  especially  by  the 
twenty-seven  native  wood-carvers.  There  are  no  shams 
in  the  decorations  ;  the  ceilings  and  cornices  are  carved, 
and  not  cast  or  moulded :  the  walnut  and  maple-woods  are 
what  they  pretend  to  be ;  and,  to  such  an  extent  has  this 
Ruskinism  "conscientiousness  of  art  "  been  carried  that,  in 
this  age  of  papier-mache,  carton-pierre,  gutta-percha,  and 
the  like,  there  are  several  miles  of  the  egg-ornament  labor- 


238  ALNWICK  CASTLE 

iously  carved  by  hand,  while  a  door  panel  has  occupied  its 
carver  four  months,  and  a  shutter-panel,  a  twelvemonth. 
This  modern  sumptuousness  of  decoration  is  a  remarkable 
contrast  to  that  peculiar  species  of  economy  imposed  upon 
the  proud  Percies  of  three  centuries  back,  when  Clarkson's 
report  (in  1567)  advised  the  taking  out  of  the  glass  win- 
dows whenever  my  lord  and  his  friends  were  not  there,  and 
laying  them  up  in  safety  until  their  return,  justifying  this 
economical  act  by  the  "  decaye  and  waste  "  of  the  windows 
"  throwe  extreme  winds." 

Next  to  these  now  destroyed  Armourer's  and  Falconer's 
Towers,  comes  the  Abbot's  Tower  (the  large  corner  one), 
where  the  abbot  had  apartments,  whenever  choice  or  neces- 
sity caused  him  to  leave  his  abbey,  snugly  situated  down  in 
the  wooded  valley  by  the  river-side.  Beyond  this  is  seen^ 
the  West  Garret,  and  the  outer  of  "  Utter  Ward,"  wffch  its 
square  and  octagonal  towers,  and  its  advanced  barbican, 
forming  a  picturesque  mass  of  great  size  and  strength,  and 
a  noble  entrance  to  a  noble  castle. 

Walking  along  the  parapets  from  the  Round  Tower,  we 
pass  East  Garret.  Beginning  at  the  left  hand,  we  first 
come  to  the  Guard  House,  and  the  Auditor's  Tower, 
which  flank  the  southern  gate.  The  south  wall  is  then 
continued  to  the  Middle  Ward,  which,  as  being  the  second 
great  entrance  to  the  castle,  is  a  building  of  great  size  and 
strength.  Over  it  was  the  chapel,  approached  from  the 
library, — a  noble  room  that  occupied  the  greater  part  of 
this  block  of  building — but  which  has  now  been  converted 
into  the  private  apartments  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess. 


ALNWICK  CASTLE 


239 


This  block  of  building  divides  the  two  courtyards,  and  is 
terminated  in  the  Keep,  whose  two  semi-octagonal  towers 
were  added,  in  advance,  to  the  old  square  Norman  tower, 
by  the  second  Lord  Percy,  about  the  year  1350. 

A  series  of  escutcheons  on  the  upper  part  of  the  towers 
helps  us  to  the  date  of  their  erection  ;  and  though  we  know 
not  their  architect,  we  have  full  proof  that  he  did  his  work 
well,  for  the  towers  have  not  needed  repairs  up  to  this  day, 
and  even  a  rector's  legal  adviser  would  experience  some 
difficulty  in  awarding  dilapidations.  The  moat  and  draw- 
bridge that  guarded  the  entrance  to  the  Keep  have  long 
since  passed  away ;  but,  at  the  time  of  my  visit,  a  field- 
piece,  backed  up  by  a  pyramidal  pile  of  cannon  balls,  did 
harmless  duty  on  either  side  of  the  gateway,  and  playfully 
menaced  the  Auditor's  Tower  and  the  Guard  House  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  courtyard. 

The  ground-floor  of  the  octagonal  towers  of  the  Keep  is 
lighted  by  long  arrow  slits  that  admit  a  thin  wedge  of  light 
to  the  wine-cellar,  on  the  left  hand,  and  to  the  chief  dun- 
geon, on  the  right.  Each  of  the  lodges  at  the  various  gates 
was  furnished  with  dungeons ;  but  this  was  the  chief  dun- 
geon for  the  State  offenders.  Its  size  is  eleven  feet  four 
inches,  by  ten  feet  four  inches.  In  the  floor  is  an  iron 
grating,  over  a  pit;  and,  a  light  being  lowered  into  this  for 
the  depth  of  eleven  feet,  discloses  a  horrible  grave  (worthy 
of  Naples  and  the  dark  ages)  nine  feet  by  eight,  into  which 
the  wretched  prisoner  was  lowered,  or  shot  like  a  sack 
of  coals.  Let  us  thank  Heaven  that  such  a  place  can  now 
only  be  shown  as  a  curiosity.  The  breakfast-room  was 


240 


ALNWICK  CASTLE 


over  the  gateway  :  we  see  one  of  its  windows  over  the 
mound  of  the  Keep.  The  windows  in  the  first  round 
tower,  and  the  windows  in  the  flat  wall  to  the  left,  lighted 
the  old  dining-room.  The  next  round  tower  contained  the 
old  drawing-room  whose  interior  shape  was  that  of  the  ace 
of  clubs.  A  portion  of  the  low  curtain-wall  is  seen  at  the 
base  of  the  Keep  mound  ;  and  then,  immediately  on  the 
right  is  the  postern  tower,  or  sally-port.  In  the  lower  part 
was  a  laboratory ;  in  the  upper  part,  a  collection  of  old 
armour,  and  a  museum  of  miscellaneous  antiquities  ;  Roman 
remains ;  small  cannon,  used  at  the  first  invention  of  gun- 
powder ;  and  the  old  standard  bushel  of  Northumberland, 
and  a  chain  of  several  links,  that  could  be  bound  around  an 
arm,  like  an  iron  chain,  and  was  carved  out  of  a  solid  block 
of  stone. 

Let  us  now  pass  between  those  two  great  Diagonal 
towers,  and  up  the  long  dark  tunnel  that  will  lead  us  into  the 
heart  of  the  Keep,  the  third,  or  inner  court ;  the  carriages 
rattle  under  that  dark  archway  with  a  peculiar  dull  sound, 
for  its  pavement  is  of  wood,  as  is  also  the  pavement  of  the 
inner  court.  It  is  a  polygon,  having  nine  sides  of  various 
dimensions,  besides  other  little  angles,  and  it  is  about  a 
hundred  feet  across  from  the  one  side  to  the  other ;  and,  as 
it  is  walled  in  with  high  towers  on  every  side,  it  has  some- 
what of  a  well-like  aspect.  Its  two  great  architectural  and 
antiquarian  curiosities  are  the  Saxon  (or  Norman,  if  you  are 
a  great  stickler  for  this  point)  mouldings  on  the  inner  face 
of  the  archway,  presenting  a  great  diversity  of  enrichments 
— and  the  old  draw-well,  for  the  use  of  the  castle  during  a 


ALNWICK  CASTLE 


241 


siege.  This  is  built  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall,  with  three 
pointed  arches,  surmounted  by  one  large  discharging  arch, 
on  the  point  of  which  is  a  humorous-looking  corbel,  sup- 
porting the  figure  of  a  priest,  who  is  in  the  attitude  of 
blessing  the  water.  The  old  axle,  with  its  pegged  hand- 
wheels,  still  remains,  and  this  interesting  draw-well  has  not 
been  interfered  with  in  the  recent  alterations,  though  the 
aspect  of  the  Inner  Court  has  been  altered  by  the  addition 
of  the  covered  drive. 

The  limits  of  this  paper  do  not  allow  me  to  say  more  of 
Alnwick  Castle,  or  to  touch  upon  the  varied  events  that 
have  befallen  it  and  its  owners,  from  those  early  Percy  days 
when  — 

"  in  the  Conqueror's  fleet 
Lord  William  shipp'd  his  powers," 

(as  one  of  the  family  has  told  us  in  his  ballad  of  the  Hermit 
of  IVarkwortV]  down  to  those  later  times  of  handsome  Hugh 
Smithson,  the  London  apothecary,  and  his  descendants, 
when,  as  the  American  poet  Halleck  sings  in  that  ballad, 
which  is  not  so  well  known  (in  its  entirety)  as  it  deserves 
to  be : — 

"  The  present  representatives 
Of  Hotspur  and  his  gentle  Kate, 
Are  some  half-dozen  serving-men, 
In  the  drab  coats  of  William  Penn  — " 

who  will  bow  you 

"  From  donjon  vault,  to  turret  wall, 
For  ten-and-sixpence  sterling." 

I  have  not  space  to  dwell  upon  these  matters,  although 


242 


ALNWICK  CASTLE 


there  is  very  much  to  interest  us  in  the  records  of  the 
Castle  and  its  owners,  and  much  for  salient  anecdote  and 
gossip,  not  only  as  to  the  people  but  also  their  manners  and 
customs.  As,  for  example,  that  curious  manuscript  book, 
dated  1512,  which  tells  us  how  the  fifth  Earl  and  his  family 
lived  ;  they  had  fresh  meat  from  Midsummer  to  Michaelmas, 
and  salt  meat  for  all  the  rest  of  the  year ;  how  the  servants 
rarely  had  anything  else  than  salt  meat,  with  few  or  no  veg- 
etables (the  roast  beef  of  Old  England  being  a  mere  Jack- 
o'-Lantern  to  them) ;  how  my  lord  and  lady  had  no  sheets 
to  their  bed,  and  only  washed  their  tablecloths  once  a 
month ;  how  they  rose  at  six,  breakfasted  at  seven  on  a  quart 
of  beer,  a  quart  of  wine,  two  pieces  of  salt  fish,  six  red  her- 
rings, four  white  herrings,  and  a  dish  of  sprats — half  a  chyne 
of  mutton  and  a  chyne  of  boiled  beef  being  added  on  flesh 
days ;  how  they  dined  at  ten  and  supped  at  four,  and  went  to 
bed  at  nine;  how  there  were  only  two  cooks,  with  two  assist- 
ants to  provide  for  a  household  of  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
three,  and  how  the  head  cook  was  so  great  a  monarch  that 
when  he  gives  an  order  for  the  making  of  mustard  it  bears 
this  preamble  :  "  It  seemeth  good  to  us  and  our  council ;  " 
how  the  players  at  Christmas  had  twenty-pence  for  every 
play,  and  the  rockers  in  the  nursery  had  as  many  shillings 
each  year;  how,  in  the  winter,  only  a  peck  of  coals  were 
allowed  for  each  fire,  and  no  fires  after  Lady-day,  except 
half-fires  for  my  lord  and  lady,  and  the  nursery.  There  is 
all  this,  and  very  much  more,  that  is  both  curious  and 
interesting,  but  space,  and  not  material,  fails  me. 

Nor  can  I  speak  of  the  out-of-door  lions  of  Alnwick, — 


ALNWICK  CASTLE 


243 


the  park,  the  gardens,  the  model  farm,  the  Duchess's  dairy, 
the  ruins  of  Alnwick  Abbey,  down  in  the  sequestered  dell 
by  the  river,  the  ruins  of  Hulne  Abbey  upon  the  slope  of 
the  hill  over  against  the  Castle — Brislee  Tower,  a  Straw- 
berry-hill erection  eighty  feet  high,  called  by  Mr.  Walter 
White  _"  an  elegant  structure  "  ;  but,  in  my  humble  opinion, 
a  very  hideous  affair,  and  a  fit  companion  to  Kew  Pagoda ; 
and  more  useful  than  ornamental,  for  the  summit  commands 
a  glorious  view; — the  monument  to  commemorate  the 
capture  of  William  the  Lion,  and  the  cross  to  commemorate 
the  death  of  King  Malcolm.  It  bears  the  following  in- 
scriptions :  "  Malcolm  III.,  King  of  Scotland,  besieging 
Alnwick  Castle,  was  slain  here,  Nov.  XIII.,  an.  MXCIII. 
— K.  Malcolm's  cross,  decayed  by  time,  was  restored 
by  his  descendant,  Eliz.  Dutchess  of  Northumberland, 
MDCCLXXIV."  It  is  distant  about  three-quarters  of  a 
mile  from  the  castle,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river;  but, 
from  what  the  ancient  chartulary  of  Alnwick  Abbey  says, 
the  spot  where  Malcolm  died  was  two  or  three  hundred 
yards  nearer  to  the  castle,  where  Malcolm's  Well  now  is. 
Malcolm  was  ravaging  Northumberland  with  fire  and 
sword,  and,  in  due  course,  laid  siege  to  Alnwick,  which  was 
stoutly  defended  by  Moroll  of  Bamburgh.  When  the 
garrison  could  hold  out  no  longer,  a  certain  man  rode  forth 
to  Malcolm,  bearing  the  keys  of  the  castle  tied  to  the  end 
of  his  spear,  and  presented  himself  in  a  suppliant  posture, 
as  being  come  to  surrender  up  possession.  Malcolm 
advanced  to  receive  the  keys,  when  the  soldier  pierced  him 
with  a  mortal  wound,  and,  dashing  through  the  swollen 


244 


ALNWICK  CASTLE 


river,  escaped  by  the  fleetness  of  his  horse.  Malcolm 
dropped  dead;  a  panic  arose  among  the  Scots,  and  the 
desperate  defenders  of  Alnwick  made  a  successful  sortie, 
and  put  their  enemy  to  the  rout.  Prince  Edward,  Malcolm's 
eldest  son,  received  mortal  wounds  in  this  fight.  The  old 
Abbey  chronicle  says  that  the  soldier's  name  was  Hammond, 
and  the  place  where  he  swam  the  river  was  called  "  Ham- 
mond's Ford."  But  Hector  Boetius  has  improved  the 
story  into  a  legend,  and  says  the  soldier's  name  was 
Mowbray,  and  that  he  pierced  Malcolm  through  the  eye, 
and  from  that  circumstance  acquired  the  name  of  Pierce- 
eye,  and  became  the  founder  of  the  proud  family  of  Percy, 
Earls  of  Northumberland.  A  very  pretty  legend,  but 
somewhat  damaged  by  obtrusive  facts,  especially  by  that 
fact  that  the  ancestor  of  the  family  was  that  William  de 
Percy,  of  the  town  of  Percy  in  Lower  Normandy,  who 
was  one  of  the  Norman  chieftains  who  came  over  with  the 
Conqueror,  and  whose  name  is  recorded  in  the  rolls  of 
Battle  Abbey. 


THE  PALACE   OF  SAINT-CLOUD 

J.  J.   BOURRASSEE. 

THE  name  Saint-Cloud  involuntarily  carries  us  back 
to  one  of  the  most  agitated  epochs  of  our  history 
and  recalls  a  scene  of  savage  violence.  Clodowald,  son  of 
Clodomir,  King  of  Orleans,  saw  his  two  brothers  assas- 
sinated before  his  eyes :  the  executioners  were  his  two 
uncles.  The  cruel  spectacle  was  never  effaced  from  his 
memory.  Clodowald  himself  cut  off  his  long  hair,  the 
emblem  of  his  illustrious  origin,  preferring  the  humility  of 
the  cloister  to  the  splendour  of  a  crown.  His  pious  self- 
abnegation  received  its  reward  even  in  this  world.  The 
village  of  Nogent  took  the  name  of  its  patron  who  was 
included  in  the  list  of  saints :  history  has  connected  the 
name  of  Saint-Cloud  with  events  that  fill  the  universe. 
Here  Henri  III.  fell  beneath  the  blade  of  an  assassin,  and 
with  him  the  Valois  branch  ended.  Here  suddenly  died, 
not  without  suspicions  of  poison,  the  witty  and  brilliant 
Henrietta  of  England,  wife  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth's 
brother.  In  this  same  spot  Marie  Antoinette  was  pre- 
paring the  most  charming  of  royal  residences  when  the 
Revolution  came  to  drag  her  to  the  scaffold.  Here  the 
Revolution  of  Brumaire  XVIII.  overturned  the  French 
republic.  In  1815,  the  foreigners,  with  Wellington  and 
Blucher  at  their  head,  are  at  Saint-Cloud,  where  the 


246  THE  PALACE  OF  SAINT-CLOUD 

capitulation  of  Paris  is  signed  on  July  3d.  Here,  on  July 
28th,  1830,  Charles  X.  signs  the  fatal  orders  which  are 
immediately  followed  by  a  new  revolution.  This  prince 
leaves  Saint-Cloud  on  July  3Oth,  at  3  A.  M.,  to  go  into 
exile  where  he  is  to  find  his  tomb. 

The  purity  of  the  air,  the  abundance  of  water,  the 
freshness  of  the  landscape  and  the  beauty  of  the  banks  of 
the  Seine  have  always  attracted  the  dwellers  of  Paris  to 
Saint-Cloud.  Nobles  of  the  court,  members  of  the  par- 
liament and  men  of  finance  built  elegant  country  houses 
here.  The  masses,  following  a  tradition  which  has  not  yet 
disappeared,  went  out  there  to  take  breath  at  liberty,  to 
stroll  about  in  the  shade  and  to  play  their  gambols. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  at  the  gates  of  Paris  one  could 
not  find  a  more  agreeable  promenade  nor  a  more  attractive 
dwelling-place.  Consequently,  at  the  period  of  our  inter- 
nescine  wars,  the  possession  of  it  was  bitterly  wanted.  In 
1 346  Saint-Cloud  was  revisited  by  the  English,  and  its  inhabit- 
ants were  so  fortunate  as  to  drive  them  off.  But  in  1358, 
after  the  fatal  battle  of  Poitiers,  the  English  took  the  place  and 
pillaged  and  reduced  it  to  ashes  without  sparing  the  pleasure- 
houses  established  in  the  vicinity.  Under  the  reign  of  the 
unfortunate  Charles  VI.,  the  Armagnacs  and  Bourguignons 
alternately  fell  upon  the  village  and  ravaged  the  country 
side.  These  multiplied  disasters  were  promptly  repaired 
and  the  hills  of  Saint-Cloud  again  adorned  themselves  with 
elegant  abodes  framed  in  verdure. 

The  house  that  served  as  the  kernel  of  the  royal  castle 
of  Saint-Cloud  first  belonged  to  Jerome  Gonde.  He  was 


THE  PALACE  OF  SAINT-CLOUD 


247 


an  Italian  who  came  to  France  in  the  suite  of  Catherine  de' 
Medici.  Like  several  of  his  fellow-countrymen,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  amassing  a  considerable  fortune  here.  More  for- 
tunate than  some  of  them,  he  kept  in  favour  with  the 
Queen  Mother.  It  was  in  this  house,  August  ist,  1589, 
that  Henri  III.  was  assassinated  by  Jacques  Clement.  De- 
voted servants  saluted  Henri  IV.  as  King  of  France :  he 
was  at  Saint-Cloud  in  the  Tillet  house.  This  house,  the 
witness  of  the  accession  to  the  throne  of  the  Bourbon  line, 
has  since  disappeared  :  its  site  is  marked  in  the  gardens  of 
the  castle  by  the  Tillet  alley. 

The  grandson  of  Henri  IV.,  so  passionate  for  the 
grandeur  of  his  house,  bought  Saint-Cloud  for  Philip  of 
Orleans,  his  brother,  generally  called  Monsieur.  Various 
acquisitions  were  successively  made  to  complete  this  beau- 
tiful demesne :  the  castle  was  rebuilt  by  Lepautre,  and  the 
gardens  laid  out  by  Le  Notre.  Saint-Cloud  for  along  time 
remained  the  favourite  residence  of  the  Dukes  of  Orleans. 
Henrietta  of  England  with  her  gay  spirit,  her  beautiful 
manners,  her  love  offetes,  her  taste  for  pomp,  her  engaging 
character,  her  discreet  advances,  and  the  friendship  shown 
for  her  by  her  brother-in-law,  rendered  it  the  most  elegant 
abode,  the  centre  of  the  most  select  gatherings,  and  the 
palace  of  decent  and  delicate  pleasures. 

Alas  !  these  brilliant  entertainments  of  fashion  were  very 
soon  to  be  interrupted  by  a  terrible  blow  which  fell  sud- 
denly like  a  clap  of  thunder.  Henrietta  returned  from 
England  whither  she  had  been,  charged  by  Louis  XIV. 
with  the  negotiation  of  a  secret  treaty  with  her  brother, 


248  THE  PALACE  OF  SAINT-CLOUD 

Charles  II.  Arriving  in  the  beginning  of  June,  1670,  she 
was  quietly  resting  at  Saint-Cloud,  when,  on  the  twenty- 
ninth  of  the  same  month,  suddenly  in  the  castle  in 
the  middle  of  the  night  the  terrible  cry  was  heard : 
"  Madame  is  dying  !  "  and,  eight  hours  later :  "  Madame  is 
dead  ! "  This  princess  was  twenty-six  years  old.  The 
disease  declared  itself  by  frightful  agony  the  moment  after 
drinking  a  glass  of  chicory  water.  At  first  she  declared 
that  she  had  been  poisoned  ;  if  she  retracted  this  afterwards, 
it  was  under  the  apprehension  of  the  terrible  consequences 
that  a  false  declaration  might  entail.  Her  suspicions  have 
been  shared  by  historians,  who  briefly  add  that  Louis  XIV. 
was  happy  to  learn  that  his  brother  was  innocent  of  this  crime. 

Monsieur  showed  his  grief  by  grand  funeral  ceremonies. 
What  makes  the  memory  of  these  obsequies  notable  is  the 
funeral  oration  delivered  by  Bossuet.  It  is  one  of  the 
masterpieces  of  pulpit  eloquence. 

The  tears,  feigned  or  genuine,  were  scarcely  dry  before 
they  began  to  think  of  filling  the  place  left  empty  by  death. 
The  King  made  overtures  on  this  subject  to  Mademoiselle, 
daughter  of  Gaston  of  Orleans,  the  brother  of  Louis  XIII.; 
but  this  princess  at  that  time  was  occupied  with  a  project 
that  became  the  torment  of  her  life  ;  she  wanted  to  marry 
the  Comte  de  Lauzun. 

Four  months  after  the  death  of  the  gentle  and  witty 
Henrietta  of  England,  Monsieur  married  the  Princess  Pala- 
tine, the  daughter  of  the  Elector  Palatine.  A  robust  Ger- 
man with  strongly  marked  features,  an  enemy  to  ceremony, 
detesting  entertainments  on  account  of  impatience  with  con- 


THE  PALACE  OF  SAINT-CLOUD 


249 


straint,  holding  the  toilette  in  aversion  because  it  interfered 
with  her  usual  habits,  the  Princess  Palatine  formed  a  com- 
plete contrast  to  the  lively  and  delicate  Henrietta.  She  ab- 
jured Lutheranism  on  the  eve  of  her  marriage.  From  this 
we  may  judge  of  the  changes  that  followed  at  first  in  the 
customs  of  the  castle  of  Saint-Cloud.  But  they  did  not 
last  long.  Philip  of  Orleans  loved  to  hold  a  court  and  he 
was  anxious  to  see  it  constantly  filled  with  people  who 
could  amuse  themselves.  High  play  occurred  there  and 
many  ladies  came,  who,  says  Saint  Simon,  "  would  scarcely 
have  been  received  elsewhere."  At  Saint-Cloud,  as  at  the 
Palais  Royale,  there  was  an  uninterrupted  succession  of  en- 
tertainments. Madame  often  sulked  at  the  company.  She 
spent  the  greatest  part  of  the  day  in  her  cabinet.  Her  hus- 
band allowed  her  every  liberty  and  freely  used  his  own, 
without  concerning  himself  about  her  in  any  way. 

In  1701,  Philip  of  Orleans,  the  King's  brother,  died  at 
Saint-Cloud.  The  Princess  Palatine  also  breathed  her  last 
gasp  there.  This  magnificent  residence  continued  to  be 
occupied  with  the  same  sumptuousness  and  luxury  by  the 
new  owners  ;  these  were  the  Duke  of  Chartres  who,  on  his 
father's  death,  took  the  title  of  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  his 
wife,  Mile,  de  Blois,  daughter  of  Louis  XIV.  This  prin- 
cess wanted  to  hold  a  court  there  that  would  do  sufficient 
honour  to  the  first  prince  of  the  blood.  The  King  ap- 
proved, provided  that  she  took  care  to  gather  together  a 
distinguished  company  free  from  the  confused  and  objec- 
tionable mixture  that  had  defiled  the  society  of  the  late 
Duke  of  Orleans.  The  beginnings  of  this  new  court  were 


250 


THE  PALACE  OF  SAINT-CLOUD 


admirable.  Families  of  the  best  positions  in  the  realm 
crowded  into  the  receptions  at  Saint-Cloud.  The  drawing- 
rooms  and  gardens  were  filled  with  personages  belonging  to 
the  most  illustrious  houses.  Since  Louis  XIV.  was  old 
and  Versailles  did  not  always  afford  much  pleasure,  the 
young  generation  gladly  turned  to  Saint-Cloud  where  polite- 
ness, liberality,  magnificence,  fine  manners  and  an  amiable 
freedom  attracted  and  held  everybody. 

In  1752,  Louis  Philippe  of  Orleans,  grandson  of  the  Re- 
gent, gave  a  splendid  fete  at  Saint-Cloud,  a  detailed  descrip- 
tion of  which  was  given  by  the  writers  of  the  time  with 
great  gusto.  It  was  remarked  that  the  populace  was  ad- 
mitted to  take  part  in  it.  This  remark,  which  was  dwelt 
on  with  a  kind  of  affectation,  shows  the  influence  of  new 
ideas.  In  1759,  this  prince  lost  his  wife,  Louise  Henriette 
de  Bourbon  Conti,  and  in  1773  he  secretly  married  the 
Marquise  de  Montesson.  The  latter,  desiring  a  modest 
abode,  induced  the  Duke  of  Orleans  to  sell  the  castle  of 
Saint-Cloud.  In  1785,  this  beautiful  residence  was  pur- 
chased by  Queen  Marie  Antoinette  for  six  millions.  By 
the  Queen's  orders  numerous  changes  were  made.  The 
new  chapel  was  built  at  that  time,  and  on  the  site  of  the 
old  one  a  staircase  of  honour  was  built,  leading  to  the  grand 
apartments.  Considerable  additions  were  made  to  the 
buildings  by  doubling  two  bodies  of  outbuildings.  The 
works  were  carried  forward  rapidly  ;  but  events  were  march- 
ing still  faster ;  they  were  not  yet  completed  when  the  Rev- 
olution burst.  The  palace  was  abandoned ;  the  gardens 
were  reserved  for  the  pleasure  of  the  citizens. 


THE  PALACE  OF  SAINT-CLOUD 


251 


A  great  political  event  was  soon  to  happen  at  Saint- 
Cloud.  After  horrible  and  sterile  agitation  like  that  of  a 
tempest,  the  Directory,  far  from  healing  France  of  the  ex- 
cesses of  anarchy,  was  impotent,  and  its  weakness,  not  less 
than  the  light  conduct  of  the  Directors,  caused  it  to  fall 
into  discredit.  All  was  ready  for  a  new  revolution,  and  it 
came  on  the  i8th  of  Brumaire  (Nov.  gth,  1799).  The 
legislative  body  had  been  transferred  to  the  castle  of  Saint- 
Cloud.  The  victor  of  Lodi  and  Arcola,  having  recently 
returned  from  Egypt,  was  ripe  for  new  destinies.  Sur- 
rounded by  a  crowd  of  superior  officers  determined  to  put 
an  end  to  the  government  of  lawyers,  it  was  necessary  to  act. 
So  he  went  to  Saint-Cloud  after  having  taken  his  measures 
in  Paris.  ...  At  the  sight  of  the  grenadiers  advanc- 
ing with  fixed  bayonets,  the  terrified  members  of  the  coun- 
cil dispersed  in  flight  through  the  passages,  or  jumping  out 
of  the  windows.  A  new  era  was  about  to  open ;  Napo- 
leon Bonaparte  is  nominated  First  Consul,  Consul  for  ten 
years,  Consul  for  life,  and  lastly,  Emperor. 

From  the  year  1800,  the  royal  residences  had  been  placed 
at  the  disposal  of  the  new  representative  of  sovereign 
authority  in  France,  and  he  chose  the  castle  of  Saint-Cloud 
for  his  summer  residence.  It  was  here  that  he  received  the 
decree  that  proclaimed  him  Emperor  of  the  French.  Napo- 
leon often  came  here  for  repose  after  his  victories.  Here, 
in  quiet,  he  planned  new  conquests,  and  more  especially  he 
elaborated  those  regulations  of  public  administration  that, 
together  with  the  code  that  bears  his  name,  perhaps  con- 
stitute his  best  title  to  glory  in  the  eyes  of  posterity. 


252 


THE  PALACE  OF  SAINT-CLOUD 


In  1810,  on  April  ist,  the  marriage  of  Napoleon  with 
Marie  Louise  was  celebrated  in  the  chapel  of  Saint-Cloud. 
The  castle  and  gardens  then  witnessed  rejoicings  that 
seemed  as  if  they  could  never  be  saddened  by  any  cloud. 
In  1815,  alas !  the  scene  has  greatly  changed.  Saint  Cloud 
is  invaded  by  a  horde  of  foreigners.  The  conqueror  wants 
to  dishonour  the  palace  of  the  hero  whom  Fortune  has  be- 
trayed. Troops  are  encamped  in  the  gardens ;  horses  are 
watered  in  the  park  fountains.  Nothing  is  respected,  not  even 
the  private  chamber  of  the  Empress.  A  pack  of  hounds  is  put 
there ;  the  furniture  is  soiled  and  torn  books  litter  the  floor. 
A  soldier  sleeps  in  his  uniform  in  Napoleon's  bed  and  amuses 
himself  with  tearing  the  imperial  draperies  with  his  spurs. 
Those  were  days  of  mourning  for  Saint-Cloud  and  for 
France  !  The  capitulation  of  Paris  was  signed  at  Saint- 
Cloud,  July  3d,  1813. 

Fifteen  years  later,  also  in  the  month  of  July,  another 
revolution  chased  Charles  X.  from  Saint-Cloud.  It  was 
here  that  that  prince  signed  the  orders  of  July  24,  1830. 
Six  days  later,  the  royal  family  of  Bourbon  was  on  the  road 
of  exile  !  The  government  of  the  Restoration  had  various 
embellishments  done  to  the  palace  and  gardens  of  Saint- 
Cloud.  We  owe  to  Charles  X.  the  construction  of 
the  building  for  the  accommodation  of  the  servants 
of  his  establishment,  as  well  as  a  fine  barracks,  situ- 
ated in  the  gardens  of  the  lower  park,  for  his  body- 
guard. 

Louis  Philippe  did  not  forget  Saint-Cloud  which  recalled 
youthful  memories.  The  apartments  were  renovated  and 


THE  PALACE  OF  SAINT-CLOUD 


253 


richly  furnished,  and  new  distributions  still  further  im- 
proved this  beautiful  residence. 

Notwithstanding  the  considerable  works  undertaken  at 
different  periods,  it  was  easy  to  recognize  the  modern 
works  from  the  ancient  parts.  The  front  on  the  court  of 
honour  was  executed  after  the  plans  of  Gerard ;  the  two 
pavilions  were  by  the  architect  Lepautre.  The  apartments 
of  Napoleon  III.  and  the  Empress  were  situated  on  the 
first  story  in  the  left  wing.  Qiieen  Marie  Antoinette,  the 
Empress  Marie  Louise  and  the  Duchess  of  Angouleme 
occupied  this  part  of  the  castle.  The  Apollo  Gallery,  in- 
augurated by  a  splendid  fete  given  by  Philip  of  Orleans  to 
his  brother,  Louis  XIV.,  was  on  the  first  story  of  the  right 
wing.  Under  the  Directory,  this  gallery  was  used  for  the 
sittings  of  the  council  of  the  Anciens.  The  emperor's  vesti- 
bule was  in  the  centre  of  the  facade,  with  the  staircase 
built  on  the  site  of  the  old  chapel.  The  internal  decora- 
tion of  the  palace  was  of  the  greatest  magnificence ;  the 
paintings  on  the  ceilings  were  by  illustrious  artists,  and  the 
furniture,  renewed  several  times,  was  of  rare  elegance  and 
dazzling  richness. 

The  heir  of  Napoleon  I.  was  soon  to  reappear  there :  it 
was  at  Saint-Cloud,  Dec.  2,  1852,  that  the  Empire  was 
restored. 

The  palace  of  Saint-Cloud  was  burnt  during  the  siege 
of  Paris  by  the  German  army  in  1870-1871. 


STIRLING  CASTLE 

NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE 

WE  passed  through  the  outer  rampart  of  Queen 
Anne ;  through  the  old  round  gate-tower  of  an 
earlier  day,  and  beneath  the  vacant  arch  where  the  portcul- 
lis used  to  fall,  thus  reaching  the  inner  region,  where  stand 
the  old  palace  on  one  side  and  the  old  Parliament  House  on 
the  other.  The  former  looks  aged,  ragged  and  rusty,  but 
makes  a  good  appearance  enough  pictorially,  being  adorned 
all  round  about  with  statues,  which  may  have  been  white 
marble  once,  but  are  as  grey  as  weather-beaten  granite  now, 
and  look  down  from  beneath  the  windows  above  the  base- 
ment story.  A  photograph  would  give  the  idea  of  very 
rich  antiquity,  but  as  it  really  stands,  looking  on  a  gravelled 
courtyard,  and  with  "  Canteen  "  painted  on  one  of  its 
doors,  the  spectator  does  not  find  it  very  impressive.  The 
great  hall  of  this  palace  is  now  partitioned  off  into  two  or 
three  rooms,  and  the  whole  edifice  is  arranged  to  serve  as 
barracks.  Of  course,  no  trace  of  ancient  magnificence,  if 
anywise  destructible,  can  be  left  in  the  interior.  We  were 
not  shown  into  this  palace,  nor  into  the  Parliament  House, 
nor  into  the  tower,  where  King  James  stabbed  the  Earl  of 
Douglas.  When  I  was  here  a  year  ago,  I  went  up  the  old 
staircase  and  into  the  room  where  the  murder  was  com- 
mitted, although  it  had  recently  been  the  scene  of  a  fire 


STIRLING  CASTI.E 


255 


which  consumed  as  much  of  it  as  was  inflammable.  The 
window  whence  the  Earl's  body  was  thrown  then  remained; 
but  now  the  whole  tower  seems  to  have  been  removed, 
leaving  only  the  mullions  of  the  historic  window. 

We  merely  looked  up  at  the  new,  light-coloured  free- 
stone of  the  restored  tower  in  passing,  and  ascended  to  the 
ramparts,  where  we  found  one  of  the  most  splendid  views, 
morally  and  materially,  that  this  world  can  show.  Indeed, 
I  think  there  cannot  be  such  a  landscape  as  the  Carse  of 
Stirling,  set  in  such  a  frame  as  it  is, — the  Highlands,  com- 
prehending our  friends  Ben  Lomond,  Ben  Venue,  Ben  An, 
and  the  whole  Ben  brotherhood,  with  the  Grampians  sur- 
rounding it  to  the  westward  and  northward,  and  in  other 
directions  some  range  of  prominent  objects  to  shut  it  in  ; 
and  the  plain  itself,  so  worthy  of  the  richest  setting,  so 
fertile,  so  beautiful,  so  written  over  and  over  again  with 
histories.  The  silver  Links  of  Forth  are  as  sweet  and 
gently  picturesque  an  object  as  a  man  sees  in  a  lifetime. 
I  do  not  wonder  that  Providence  caused  great  things  to 

O  D 

happen  on  this  plain ;  it  was  like  choosing  a  good  piece  of 
canvas  to  paint  a  great  picture  upon.  The  battle  of  Ban- 
nockburn  (which  we  saw  beneath  us,  with  the  Gillie's  Hill 
on  the  right)  could  not  have  been  fought  upon  a  meaner 
plain,  nor  Wallace's  victory  gained  ;  and  if  any  other  great 
historic  act  still  remains  to  be  done  in  this  country,  I 
should  imagine  the  Carse  of  Stirling  to  be  the  future  scene 
of  it.  Scott  seems  to  me  hardly  to  have  done  justice  to 
this  landscape,  or  to  have  bestowed  pains  enough  to  put  it 
in  strong  relief  before  the  world ;  although  it  is  from  the 


256  STIRLING  CASTLE 

lights  shed  on  it,  and  so  much  other  Scottish  scenery,  by 
his  mind,  that  we  chiefly  see  it  and  take  an  interest  in  it. 

I  do  not  remember  seeing  the  hill  of  execution  before, — 
a  mound  on  the  same  level  as  the  castle's  base,  looking 
towards  the  Highlands.  A  solitary  cow  was  now  feeding 
upon  it.  I  should  imagine  that  no  person  could  ever  have 
been  unjustly  executed  there  ;  the  spot  is  too  much  in  the 
sight  of  heaven  and  earth  to  countenance  injustice. 

Descending  from  the  ramparts,  we  went  into  the 
Armoury,  which  I  did  not  see  on  my  former  visit.  The 
superintendent  of  this  department  is  an  old  soldier  of  very 
great  intelligence  and  vast  communicativeness,  and  quite 
absorbed  in  thinking  of  and  handling  weapons  ;  for  he  is  a 
practical  armourer.  He  had  a  few  things  to  show  us  that 
were  very  interesting, — a  helmet  or  two,  a  bomb  and 
grenade  from  the  Crimea ;  also  some  muskets  from  the 
same  quarter,  one  of  which,  with  a  sword  at  the  end,  he 
spoke  of  admiringly,  as  the  best  weapon  in  the  collection, 
its  only  fault  being  its  extreme  weight.  He  showed  us, 
too,  some  Minie  rifles,  and  whole  ranges  of  the  old-fashioned 
Brown  Bess,  which  had  helped  to  win  Wellington's 
victories  ;  also  the  halberts  of  sergeants,  now  laid  aside, 
and  some  swords  that  had  been  used  at  the  battle  of 
SherirFmuir.  These  latter  were  very  short,  not  reaching  to 
the  floor,  when  I  held  one  of  them  point  downward,  in  my 
hand.  The  shortness  of  the  blade  and  consequent  closeness 
of  the  encounter,  must  have  given  the  weapon  a  most 
dagger-like  murderousness.  Hanging  in  the  hall  of  arms, 
there  were  two  tattered  banners  that  had  gone  through  the 


STIRLING  CASTLE 


257 


Peninsular  battles,  one  of  them  belonged  to  the  gallant 
4id  Regiment.  The  armourer  gave  my  wife  a  rag  from 
each  of  these  banners,  consecrated  by  so  much  battle 
smoke  ;  also  a  piece  of  old  oak,  half-burned  to  charcoal, 
which  had  been  rescued  from  the  panelling  of  the  Douglas 
Tower.  We  saw  better  things,  moreover,  than  all  these 
rusty  weapons  and  ragged  flags ;  namely,  the  pulpit  and 
communion-table  of  John  Knox.  The  frame  of  the 
former,  if  I  remember  aright,  is  complete  ;  but  one  or  two 
of  the  panels  are  knocked  out  and  lost,  and,  on  the  whole, 
it  looks  as  if  it  had  been  shaken  to  pieces  by  the  thunder  of 
his  holdings  forth, — much  worm-eaten,  too,  is  the  old  oak 
wood,  as  well  it  may  be,  for  the  letters  MD  (1500)  are 
carved  on  its  front.  The  communion  table  is  polished, 
and  in  much  better  preservation. 

Then  the  armourer  showed  us  a  Damascus  blade,  of  the 
kind  that  will  cut  a  delicate  silk  handkerchief  while  floating 
in  the  air ;  and  some  inlaid  match-lock  guns.  A  child's 
little  toy-gun  was  lying  on  a  work-bench  among  all  this 
array  of  weapons  ;  and  when  I  took  it  up  and  smiled,  he 
said  it  was  his  son's.  So  he  called  in  a  little  fellow  of  four 
years  old,  who  was  playing  in  the  castle  yard,  and  made 
him  go  through  the  musketry  exercise  which  he  did  with 
great  good-will.  This  small  Son  of  a  Gun,  the  father 
assured  us,  cares  for  nothing  but  arms,  and  has  attained  all 
his  skill  with  the  musket  merely  by  looking  at  the  soldiers 
on  parade. 

Our  soldier,  who  had  resigned  the  care  of  us  to  the 
armourer,  met  us  again  at  the  door,  and  led  us  round  the 


258  STIRLING  CASTLE 

remainder  of  the  ramparts,  dismissing  us  finally  at  the  gate 
by  which  we  entered.  All  the  time  we  were  in  the  castle, 
there  had  been  a  great  discordance  of  drums  and  fifes, 
caused  by  the  musicians  who  were  practicing  just  under  the 
walls ;  likewise  the  sergeants  were  drilling  their  squads  of 
men,  and  putting  them  through  strange  gymnastic  motions. 
Most,  if  not  all,  of  the  garrison  belongs  to  a  Highland 
regiment,  and  those  whom  we  saw  on  duty  in  full  costume 
looked  very  martial  and  gallant.  Emerging  from  the  Castle, 
we  took  the  broad  and  pleasant  footpath,  which  circles  it 
about  midway  on  the  grassy  steep  which  descends  from  the 
rocky  precipice  on  which  the  walls  are  built.  This  is  a 
very  beautiful  walk,  and  affords  a  most  striking  view  of  the 
Castle,  right  above  our  heads,  the  height  of  its  wall  forming 
one  line  with  the  precipice.  The  grassy  hillside  is  almost 
as  precipitous  as  the  dark  grey  rock  that  rises  out  of  it,  to 
form  the  foundations  of  the  Castle ;  but  wild  rose-bushes, 
both  of  a  white  and  red  variety,  are  abundant  here,  and  all 
in  bloom ;  nor  are  these  the  only  flowers.  There  is  also 
shrubbery  in  some  spots,  tossing  up  green  waves  against  the 
precipice ;  and  broad  sheets  of  ivy  here  and  there  mantle 
the  head-long  rock,  which  also  has  a  growth  of  weeds  in 
its  crevices.  The  Castle  walls  above,  however,  are  quite 
bare  of  any  such  growth.  Thus,  looking  up  at  the  old  storied 
fortress,  and  looking  down  over  the  wide,  historic  plain,  we 
wandered  half-way  round  the  Castle,  and  then,  retracing 
our  steps,  entered  the  town  close  by  an  old  hospital. 


THE  PALACE  OF  THE  BOSPHORUS 

THEOPHILE    GAUTIER 

WHEN  in  your  caique  upon  the  Bosphorus  you  have 
passed  the  Tower  of  Leander,1  you  see  opposite 
Scutari  an  immense,  unfinished  palace  that  bathes  its  white 
feet  in  the  blue  and  rapid  waters.  There  is  a  superstition 
in  the  East,  supported  by  the  architects,  that  no  one  dies 
while  the  house  he  is  having  built  is  uncompleted ;  there- 
fore the  Sultans  always  take  care  to  have  some  palace  on 
hand. 

As  a  rare  instance  among  the  Turks,  who  consecrate 
solid  and  precious  materials  to  the  house  of  God  and  erect 
for  the  transitory  habitation  of  man  only  wooden  kiosks 
hardly  more  enduring  than  himself,  this  palace  is  all  of 
marble  and  built  for  eternity.  It  is  composed  of  one  great 
body  and  two  wings.  To  say  to  what  order  of  architecture 
it  belongs  would  be  difficult ;  it  is  not  Greek,  nor  Roman, 
nor  Gothic,  nor  Renaissance,  nor  Saracen,  nor  Arab,  nor 
Turkish  ;  it  approaches  that  style  which  the  Spaniards  call 
plateresco,  and  which  makes  the  facade  of  a  building  re- 
semble a  great  piece  of  goldsmith's  work  owing  to  the  com- 
plicated wealth  of  its  ornaments  and  the  maddening  mass 
of  the  details. 

1  The  Maiden's  Tower. 


26o       THE  PALACE  OF  THE  BOSPHORUS 

Windows  with  open-work  balconies,  small  enwreathed 
columns,  ribbed  trefoils,  festooned  frames,  and  intervening 
spaces  crowded  with  sculpture  and  arabesques,  recall  the 
Lombard  style  and  make  you  think  of  the  ancient  palaces 
of  Venice ;  only  there  is  the  same  difference  between  the 
Palace  Dario  or  Casa  d'oro  and  the  Sultan's  Palace  as  be- 
tween the  Grand  Canal  and  the  Bosphorus. 

This  enormous  building  of  Marmora  marble,  of  a  bluish 
white  that  seems  a  little  cold  owing  to  the  sharp  glitter  from 
its  newness,  produces  a  very  majestic  effect  between 
the  blue  of  the  sky  and  the  blue  of  the  sea ;  it  will  produce 
a  better  one  when  the  warm  sun  of  Asia  shall  have  gilded 
it  with  its  rays  which  are  received  direct  and  at  first- 
hand. Vignola,  doubtless,  would  not  know  what  to  make 
of  this  hybrid  facade  where  the  styles  of  all  periods  and  all 
countries  form  a  composite  order  which  he  did  not  foresee. 
But  one  cannot  deny  that  this  multitude  of  flowers,  foliage, 
and  rose-work,  carved  like  jewels  of  precious  material  pos- 
sesses a  tufted  and  complicated  appearance,  gorgeous  and 
delightful  to  the  eye.  It  is  a  palace  that  might  have  been 
made  by  an  ornament-worker  who  was  not  an  architect, 
and  who  spared  neither  the  work  of  his  hands,  nor  time, 
nor  money.  Such  as  it  is,  I  prefer  it  to  those  horrid,  clas- 
sic reproductions,  so  beastly,  so  flat,  so  cold  and  so  tire- 
some, such  as  are  built  by  pedants  and  those  who  like  to  be 
conventional,  and  I  greatly  prefer  these  gay,  ornamental 
masses  of  foliage  interlacing  with  fantastic  elegance,  to  a 
triangular  pediment  or  a  horizontal  attic,  resting  on  six  or 
eight  lean  columns. 


THE  PALACE  OF  THE  BOSPHORUS  261 

This  naive  ignorance  displayed  upon  so  gigantic  a  scale 
has  its  charm  ;  it  is  probable  that  the  bold  builders  of  our 
cathedrals  knew  little  more,  and  their  works  are  not  the  less 
admirable  for  that. 

Along  the  whole  length  of  the  palace,  there  runs  a  plat- 
form, bordered  on  the  side  of  the  Bosphorus  with  monu- 
mental pillars  linked  together  by  grilles  of  beautiful  and 
charming  wrought-iron,  where  the  iron  curves  in  a  thousand 
flowered  arabesques,  resembling  the  flourishes  of  a  bold  pen 
sweeping  the  paper.  These  gilded  grilles  form  an  extremely 
rich  balustrade. 

The  two  wings,  built  at  a  different  period,  are  very  much 
too  low  for  the  body  of  the  principal  dwelling,  with  which 
they  have,  moreover,  no  harmony  of  style  or  form.  Imag- 
ine a  double  row  of  Odeons  or  Chambers  of  Deputies  in 
miniature,  following  each  other  in  wearisome  alternation 
and  presenting  to  the  eye  a  line  of  slender  little  columns 
that  seem  to  be  of  wood,  although  they  are  of  marble. 

In  passing  and  repassing  before  this  palace,  the  desire  to 
visit  it  had  come  to  me  many  times.  In  Italy  nothing 
would  have  been  simpler;  but  to  bring  your  caique  to 
an  imperial  landing-place  in  Turkey,  would  be  a  grave 
performance  that  might  bring  serious  consequences.  Hap- 
pily, through  the  agency  of  a  friend,  I  was  put  into  com- 
munication with  the  architect,  M.  Balyan,  a  young 
Armenian  of  great  intelligence,  and  who  spoke  French. 

M.  Balyan  had  the  kindness  to  take  me  in  his  boat  of 
three  pairs  of  oars,  and  made  me  enter  first  an  old  kiosk,  a 
remnant  of  the  former  palace,  where  we  were  served  with 


262       THE  PALACE  OF  THE  BOSPHORUS 

pipes,  coffee,  and  sherbet  flavoured  with  rose  ;  then  he  con- 
ducted me  himself  through  the  apartments  with  a  kindness 
and  charming  politeness  for  which  I  thank  him  here,  hoping 
that  one  day  his  eye  will  fall  upon  these  lines. 

The  interior  has  not  been  entirely  finished  yet,  but,  never- 
theless, you  can  get  an  idea  of  the  future  splendour  of  the 
whole.  The  religious  ideas  of  the  Turks  debar  from 
their  ornamentation  a  host  of  happy  motives  and  re- 
strict considerably  the  fancy  of  the  artist,  who  must  care- 
fully abstain  from  mingling  with  his  arabesques  the  repre- 
sentation of  any  living  objects  : — thus,  there  are  no  statues, 
no  bas-reliefs,  no  masks,  no  chimaeras,  no  griffins,  no 
dolphins,  no  birds,  no  sphinxes,  no  serpents,  no  butterflies, 
no  little  figures  half-woman  and  half-flower,  no  heraldic 
monsters,  and  none  of  those  strange  creatures  that  compose 
the  fabulous  zoology  of  ornamentation,  and  of  which 
Raphael  has  made  such  marvellous  use  in  the  galleries  of  the 
Vatican. 

The  Arabian  style,  with  its  interruptions,  distortions  and 
its  broken  lines,  its  lace  of  stucco  cut  out  with  a  punch,  its 
ceilings  of  stalactites,  its  bee-hive  niches,  its  marble  perforated 
like  the  lid  of  a  perfume-box,  its  mottos  in  florid  Cufic,  and 
its  colourings  of  green,  white  and  red,  discretely  enhanced 
with  gold,  would  have  afforded  natural  resources  for  the  deco- 
ration of  an  oriental  palace  ;  but  the  Sultan,  with  the  same 
caprice  that  makes  us  build  Alhambras  in  Paris,  wished  to 
have  a  palace  in  the  modern  taste.  One  is  astonished  at 
first  at  his  caprice,  but,  upon  reflection,  nothing  is  more 
natural.  Having  so  few  motives  at  his  disposition,  M.  Bal- 


THE  PALACE  OF  THE  BOSPHORUS  263 

yan  has  needed  a  rare  fertility  of  imagination  in  order  to 
decorate  in  different  ways  more  than  three  hundred  halls  or 
chambers. 

The  general  arrangement  is  very  simple :  the  rooms  fol- 
low each  other  in  succession,  or  open  upon  a  large  corridor ; 
the  harem,  among  others,  is  so  arranged.  The  apartment 
of  each  woman  opens  by  a  single  door  into  a  vast  passage, 
like  the  cells  of  nuns  in  a  cloister.  At  each  end,  a  guard 
of  eunuchs,  or  bostangis,  can  be  posted.  From  the  threshold, 
I  threw  a  glance  over  this  retreat  of  secret  pleasure,  which 
resembles  a  convent  or  a  boarding-school  much  more  than 
one  would  imagine.  Here  are  extinguished,  without  having 
shone  upon  the  outside  world,  the  stars  of  beauty  unknown, 
but  the  eye  of  the  master  has  rested  upon  them,  for  one 
minute  perhaps,  and  that  is  enough. 

The  apartment  of  the  Sultana- Valide,  composed  of  lofty 
rooms  looking  upon  the  Bosphorus,  is  remarkable  for  its 
ceilings  painted  in  fresco  with  an  incomparable  elegance 
and  freshness.  I  do  not  know  who  are  the  workmen  that 
made  these  marvels,  but  Diaz  would  not  find  upon  his 
palette  finer,  more  vaporous,  more  tender  and,  at  the  same 
time,  richer  tones.  Sometimes  they  are  skies  of  turquoise 
sown  with  light  clouds  floating  in  incredible  depths,  some- 
times immense  lace  veils  of  marvellous  figures,  then  a 
great  shell  of  mother-of-pearl  irised  with  all  the  hues 
of  the  prism,  or  still  again  of  imaginary  flowers  hanging 
their  corollas  and  leaves  upon  golden  trellises;  other 
chambers  are  similarly  ornamented ;  sometimes  a  casket 
whose  jewels  are  scattered  about  in  playful  disorder,  neck- 


264       THE  PALACE  OF  THE  BOSPHORUS 

laces  whose  pearls  have  broken  from  their  strings  and 
roll  about  like  rain-drops,  a  rillet  of  diamonds,  sapphires  and 
rubies  forming  the  motif  of  the  decoration  ;  golden  boxes 
painted  upon  the  cornices  allow  the  bluish  smoke  of  per- 
fumes to  escape  and  compose  a  ceiling  with  their  transparent 
haze.  Here  Phingari  through  a  rift  in  the  cloud  shows  his 
silver  crescent,  so  dear  to  the  Mussulman;  there  modest 
Aurora  colours  a  morning  sky  with  rose,  like  the  cheeks 
of  virgin  ;  farther  away  a  large  piece  of  brocade  streaked 
with  light  glittering  like  cloth  of  gold,  and  held  up 
by  a  clasp  of  carbuncles,  reveals  a  corner  of  blue.  Ara- 
besques with  infinite  interlacings,  sculptured  compartments, 
golden  rose-work,  and  bouquets  of  imaginary  or  real  flowers, 
blue  lilies  of  Iran,  or  roses  of  Schiraz,  come  to  vary  these 
themes,  the  chief  of  which  I  have  cited,  without  attempting 
to  enter  into  impossible  details,  and  which  the  imagination 
of  the  reader  must  supplement. 

The  Sultan's  apartments  are  in  the  style  of  Louis  XIV. 
Orientalized,  where  one  feels  an  intentional  imitation  of  the 
splendours  of  Versailles,  the  doors,  the  windows,  and  their 
frames  are  of  cedar,  mahogany,  massive  violet-ebony,  ex- 
quisitely carved,  and  fastening  by  rich  bolts  gilded  in 
ormoulu.  From  the  windows  you  have  the  most  marvellous 
view  in  the  world  :  a  panorama  without  a  rival,  and  such  as 
never  sovereign  had  before  in  front  of  his  palace.  The 
coast  of  Asia,  where  upon  an  immense  curtain  of  black 
cypress  Scutari  stands  out,  with  its  picturesque  landing-place 
crowded  with  vessels,  its  pink  houses,  its  white  mosques 
among  which  are  distinguished  Buyuck-Djami  and  Sultan- 


THE  PALACE  OF  THE  BOSPHORUS  265 

Selim ;  and  the  Bosphorus  with  its  rapid  and  transparent 
waters  furrowed  with  the  perpetual  going  and  coming  of 
the  sailing-vessels,  steam-boats,  feluccas,  prames,  boats 
from  Ismid  and  Trebizond,  with  antique  shapes,  peculiar 
sails,  canoes,  and  caiques,  above  which  fly  the  familiar 
swarms  of  sea-mews  and  gulls.  If  you  lean  out  a  little,  you 
can  discern  upon  the  two  shores  a  succession  of  summer 
homes  and  kiosks,  painted  in  flesh  colours  that  form  a 
double  key  of  palaces  for  this  marvellous  marine  river. 
Add  to  this  the  thousand  accidents  of  lights,  the  effects  of 
sun  and  moon,  and  you  will  have  a  spectacle  which  imagi- 
nation could  not  surpass. 

One  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  palace  is  a  large  hall 
roofed  with  a  dome  of  red  glass.  When  the  sun  shines 
through  this  dome  of  rubies,  everything  assumes  strange 
hues ;  the  air  seems  to  be  in  flames,  and  you  seem  to 
breathe  fire ;  the  columns  seem  like  torch-lights,  the  marble 
pavement  reddens  into  a  floor  of  lava;  a  pink  fire  devours 
the  walls ;  you  fancy  yourself  in  the  reception-hall  of  a 
palace  of  salamanders  built  of  metal  in  fusion  ;  your  eyes 
glitter  like  red  spangles  and  your  clothes  become  vestments 
of  purple.  An  operatic  hell,  lighted  with  Bengal  fire,  can 
alone  give  an  idea  of  this  peculiar  effect,  of  a  questionable 
taste,  perhaps,  but  very  striking,  nevertheless. 

A  little  marvel  which  would  not  mar  the  most  fairy-like 
architecture  of  the  Thousand  and  One  Nights,  is  the 
Sultan's  hall  of  baths.  It  is  in  the  Moorish  style,  of  veined 
Egyptian  alabaster,  and  seems  to  have  been  cut  out  of  one 
block  of  precious  stone,  with  its  columns,  its  splayed  cap- 


266       THE  PALACE  OF  THE  BOSPHORUS 

itals,  its  heart-shaped  arcades,  and  its  ceiling  constellated 
with  crystal  eyes  that  shine  like  diamonds.  To  what  luxury 
might  the  body  abandon  itself  upon  these  flags,  transparent 
as  agates,  surrendering  its  flexible  limbs  to  the  skilful 
manipulations  of  the  tellacks  in  the  midst  of  a  cloud  of 
perfumed  vapour  and  under  a  shower  of  rose-water  and 
balsam ! 

Tired  of  these  marvels  and  fatigued  with  admiration,  I 
thanked  M.  Balyan,  who  made  me  come  out  through  the 
court  of  honour,  the  gate  of  which  is  a  kind  of  triumphal 
arch  of  white  marble  of  a  very  rich  and  florid  ornamenta- 
tion, and  which  forms  on  the  land  side  an  entrance 
quite  worthy  of  this  sumptuous  palace.  Then,  as  I  was 
dying  of  hunger,  I  went  into  a  fruiterer's  shop  and  was 
served  with  two  brocket tes  of  kabobs^  wrapped  in  a  thick 
pancake,  which  I  moistened  with  a  glass  of  sherbet, — a 
very  sober  and  entirely  local  repast. 


PLESSIS-LES-TOURS 

J.  J.  BOURRASSfiE 

THE  castle  of  Plessis  stands  to  the  west  of  the  city  of 
Tours  in  a  vast  plain  watered  by  the  Loire  and  Cher. 
To  reach  it,  you  follow  a  road  bordered  with  old  mulberry- 
trees,  the  remains  or  heirs  of  those  planted  by  Henri  IV.  in 
1607,  and  renewed  in  1690  by  Louvois.  Impressed  by  the 
terrible  memories  of  Louis  XL,  turn  not  your  head  towards 
those  trees  to  look  for  those  hanged  by  Messire  Tristan 
L'Hermite.  Neither  be  afraid  of  finding  beneath  your  feet 
those  man-traps  that  were  planted  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
Castle  to  catch  the  curious  and  the  rustics  who  ventured 
upon  the  lands  of  His  Majesty.  To-day  the  country  is 
safe  and  there  is  nothing  to  be  feared  from  the  Castle,  even 
if  it  is  not  attractive  ;  but,  in  the  Fifteenth  Century,  a  safe- 
conduct  and  an  experienced  guide  were  necessary  for 
crossing  this  dangerous  region. 

Plessis  did  not  play  any  part  in  our  national  history  until 
the  reign  of  Louis  XL  Until  then,  it  was  only  an  obscure 
lordship  with  a  little  castle  on  one  of  those  rocky  hillocks 
that  still  exist  in  the  vale.  This  spot  pleasing  him  much 
more  than  the  castles  of  Amboise,  Loches,  or  Chinon,  the 
King  bought  it  from  his  chamberlain,  Hardouin  de  Maille, 
in  1463,  for  the  sum  of  5,500  gold  crowns,  and  abolished  its 


268  PLESSIS-LES-TOURS 

old  name  of  Montils.  Here  he  built  a  castle  in  the 
Fifteenth-Century  taste,  simple  and  even  severe,  for  brick 
largely  figured  in  it,  and  with  a  glass  gallery  on  the  interior 
facade  :  a  dwelling  more  worthy  of  a  rich  citizen  than  a 
King  of  France.  Here,  after  his  accession,  Louis  XI. 
spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  year  1464,  the  King  gathered 
together  the  prelates  and  principal  lords  of  the  realm  at 
Plessis  with  the  pretext  of  seeking  their  advice  as  to  the 
means  of  remedying  the  discontent  that  was  beginning  to 
break  out.  In  this  assembly,  Charles,  Duke  of  Orleans, 
thought  it  his  duty  to  hazard  a  few  remonstrances ;  but 
Louis  XI.  replied  to  the  duke  in  such  harsh  and  offensive 
language  that  the  unfortunate  prince  died  of  chagrin  at 
Amboise  a  few  days  later.  This  attitude  of  the  King  drew 
the  nobles  into  the  League  of  Public  Welfare,  and  the  Duke 
of  Berri  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  discontented.  In 
order  to  try  to  calm  them,  the  King  was  obliged  to  call 
together  the  States-General  at  Tours  in  1468. 

The  opposition  of  the  nobles  drove  Louis  XI.  towards 
the  middle  classes,  not  that  he  had  the  least  democratic 
tendencies,  but  because  he  felt  more  at  ease  among  these 
small  people,  whose  situation  rendered  them  supple  and 
easy.  He  always  liked  to  have  them  about  him,  and 
raised  them  to  the  highest  dignities,  in  hatred  and  defiance 
of  the  high  nobility,  because  they  were  broken  into  the 
practice  of  affairs  by  commerce,  and  possessed  the  art, 
always  prized  by  governments,  of  managing  the  finances 
skilfully  and  creating  resources  at  critical  moments.  His 


PLESSIS-LES-TOURS  269 

selections  were  not  always  happy  :  witness  La  Balue,  whom 
from  a  simple  clerk  he  raised  to  the  rank  of  bishop  and 
even  cardinal,  and  who  betrayed  him  to  the  profit  of  the 
Duke  of  Burgundy.  Louis  XL,  carrying  a  certain  refine- 
ment of  cruelty  even  into  his  most  legitimate  vengeance, 
had  the  cardinal  confined  in  an  iron  cage.  It  is  said  that 
this  odious  invention  was  due  to  La  Balue  himself,  and  that 
he  was  the  first  on  whom  it  was  tried.  After  languishing 
for  some  time  in  one  of  the  cells  at  Plessis,  the  cardinal 
was  transferred  to  Loches  and  then  to  Montbazon  :  he  did 
not  recover  his  liberty  till  1480,  after  a  long  and  hard 
captivity. 

Notwithstanding  the  success  of  his  policy,  Louis  XL  had 
a  sad  and  morose  old  age.  Separated  from  his  wife  and 
son,  more  suspicious  of  everybody  than  ever,  he  shut  him- 
self up  closely  at  Plessis  and  there  redoubled  his  minute 
precautions.  But  two  terrible  guests  whom  the  "  guard 
that  keeps  watch  at  the  barriers  of  the  Louvre"  can  never 
stop,  disease  and  death,  soon  came  to  seek  him.  When  he 
felt  the  first  pangs  of  the  disease  that  was  to  carry  him  off, 
he  multiplied  his  vows,  acts  of  devotion  and  pilgrimages. 
Then  he  sent  and  fetched  all  the  way  from  Calabria  a  poor 
hermit  named  Francisco  Paolo,  with  the  hope  that  the. holy 
man's  prayers  would  obtain  his  recovery.  As  soon  as  the 
King  was  informed  of  his  arrival,  he  ordered  the  Dauphin 
to  go  to  meet  him  with  the  chief  lords  of  the  court  and  to 
receive  him  with  all  the  respect  due  to  so  saintly  a  person- 
age;  he  himself  did  not  think  he  could  do  the  saint  too 
much  honour  and  lodged  him  with  his  companions  in  the 


270 


PLESSIS-LES-TOURS 


castle  ;  but  dwelling  in  the  court  ill  suited  the  pious  hermit 
and  so  they  gave  him  a  lodging  in  the  Plessis  courtyard. 
So  many  precautions  and  so  many  prayers  failed  to  bend 
Heaven  ;  even  the  holy  ampulla  was  powerless.  Louis  XI. 
died  at  the  Castle  of  Plessis,  August  3Oth,  1483,  aged  sixty, 
after  reigning  twenty -two  years.  His  body  was  first  taken 
from  Plessis  to  the  church  of  St.  Martin  of  Tours,  where  it 
lay  in  state  for  eight  days ;  then  it  was  taken  to  Notre 
Dame  de  Clery,  the  spot  which  he  himself  had  chosen  for 
his  burial.  St.  Francis  had  not  been  able  to  perform  the 
miracle  of  curing  the  King  ;  but  he  had  prepared  him  for 
his  approaching  death,  and  it  must  be  acknowledged  that 
with  a  man  like  Louis  XI.  this  was  no  small  prodigy. 

On  the  death  of  Louis  XI.  the  court  was  installed  at 
Plessis  for  some  time.  The  Dauphin  Charles,  born  at  the 
Castle  of  Amboise  in  1470,  had  reached  his  legal  majority  ; 
but  intelligence  was  very  slightly  developed  in  this  puny 
and  deformed  child.  His  sister,  Anne  de  Beaujeu,  "  fine 
and  subtle,  if  any  one  ever  was,"  says  Brantome,  "  and  the 
very  image  of  her  father  in  everything,"  unhesitatingly 
took  the  regency,  and,  to  resist  the  malcontents  who  wanted 
to  deprive  her  of  it,  she  convoked  the  States-General  at 
Tours  for  January  ist,  1484.  This  celebrated  assembly 
gave  firm  and  vigilant  attention  to  all  the  affairs  of  the 
realm  and  obtained  quite  a  sensible  reduction  of  taxes. 

Amid  the  shock  of  intrigues  and  diverse  ambitions,  the 
lady  of  Beaujeu  conducted  herself  with  so  much  address 
and  prudence,  that  the  States  confirmed  the  last  wishes  of 
Louis  XI.  in  her  favour. 


PLESSIS-LES-TOURS 


271 


The  little  King,  as  he  was  called,  was  not  long  in  shak- 
ing off  his  sister's  yoke,  and  began  his  reign  with  an  act  of 
magnanimity  by  himself  going  in  despite  of  his  council  and 
breaking  the  chains  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  Since  the  bat- 
tle of  Saint-Aubin-du  Cormier,  that  prince  had  been  con- 
fined in  the  great  tower  of  Bourges.  One  evening  with  a 
small  suite  the  young  King  set  out,  or  rather  fled,  from  the 
Castle  of  Plessis  under  the  pretext  of  a  hunting-party,  and 
went  to  free  his  prisoner.  The  Regent  thought  that  Charles 
VIII.  was  going  to  return  at  the  head  of  her  enemies  to 
proscribe  her  in  turn.  Happily  she  was  mistaken.  The 
reconciliation  took  place  at  Plessis,  and  from  that  day 
Louis  of  Orleans  became  the  most  faithful  subject  of  his 
King. 

The  Castle  of  Plessis  was  a  fortunate  place  for  the  Duke 
of  Orleans.  After  the  death  of  Charles  VIII.,  he  was  pro- 
claimed King  under  the  title  of  Louis  XII.  and  visited 
Touraine  several  times  and  stayed  at  the  castle  where  his 
reconciliation  with  Anne  de  Beaujeu  had  been  effected. 
There  he  convoked  the  States  General  in  1506,  and  the 
opening  of  this  assembly  took  place  in  the  great  hall  of 
Plessis  on  the  fourteenth  of  May.  The  purpose  of  this 
assembly  was  to  free  the  King's  word  and  by  the  interven- 
tion of  the  nation  to  break  the  treaty,  impolitic  as  well  as 
onerous  to  France,  that  had  been  signed  at  Lyons  in  1503 
and  by  which  Louis  XII.  had  promised  to  give  his  daugh- 
ter Claude,  then  only  seven  years  of  age,  in  marriage  to 
Charles  of  Luxembourg,  who  afterwards  became  the  Em- 
peror Charles  V.  and  to  whom  she  was  to  take  as  a  dowry 


272 


PLESSIS-LES-TOURS 


the  duchies  of  Milan  and  Brittany  and  the  county  of  Blois. 
It  was  a  veritable  dismemberment  of  France  and  the  ruin 
of  that  wise  policy  which  by  the  two  marriages  of  the 
Duchess  Anne  with  Charles  VIII.  and  Louis  XII.  had  se- 
cured Brittany  to  France.  The  States  rose  in  force  against 
the  treaty  and  demanded  the  marriage  of  Francois  of  Valois, 
then  twelve  years  old,  with  Claude  of  France.  These 
wishes  were  favourably  received,  and  Cardinal  Georges 
d'Amboise  proceeded  to  the  ceremony  of  betrothal  on  the 
twentieth  of  May,  in  the  great  hall  of  Plessis. 

Beginning  with  Francis  the  First,  the  court  made  only 
rare  appearances  at  Plessis  :  the  more  splendid  castles  of 
Chenonceaux,  Amboise,  Blois,  Chambord,  and  Fontaine- 
bleau  received  the  preference.  Henry  III.,  however,  when 
tossed  about  by  events,  found  himself  there  ;  and  when 
Paris  embraced  the  cause  of  the  League,  he  transferred  his 
little  court  thither  in  1589.  Mayenne  followed  to  attack 
him.  The  King  of  Navarre,  who  had  recently  signed  a 
truce  with  Henry  III.,  hastened  to  help  him,  and  set  his 
troops  in  battle  array  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Loire  near 
Saint  Cyr.  Thence  he  sent  to  say  that  if  His  Majesty 
would  deign  to  come  as  far  as  the  faubourg,  he  would  kiss 
His  Majesty's  hands  and  take  his  orders.  Henry  III.,  not 
thinking  it  wise  to  go,  invited  the  King  of  Navarre  to  pass 
the  Loire  and  come  to  visit  him  at  Plessis.  Some  of  the 
Huguenot  captains  feared  a  snare ;  but  the  Bearnais,  as 
loyal  as  he  was  brave,  did  not  hesitate  for  a  moment  and 
set  out  accompanied  by  his  nobles.  The  interview  took 
place  in  the  great  alley  of  the  park  of  Plessis,  and  the  crowd 


PLESSIS-LES-TOURS 


273 


was  so  great  that  the  two  kings,  with  outstretched  arms, 
had  great  trouble  to  approach  each  other.  At  last,  having 
embraced,  they  mutually  exchanged  evidences  of  the  most 
sincere  affection.  This  touching  scene  occurred  amid  the 
liveliest  acclamations  of  the  public,  who  saw  in  this  rec- 
onciliation of  the  two  princes  the  end  of  the  evils  of  the 
civil  war.  The  two  kings  afterwards  held  a  two  hours' 
council,  and,  when  the  King  of  Navarre  departed,  Henry 
III.  accompanied  him  as  far  as  the  St.  Anne  bridge. 

This  was  the  last  memorable  event  that  occurred  at 
Plessis.  Pre-occupied  with  the  ever-increasing  political 
importance  of  Paris,  Henry  IV.  left  Touraine  for  good,  and 
transported  his  court  to  the  capital,  so  as  to  be  at  hand  to 
supervise  and  direct  its  movements. 

For  a  century  and  a  half,  the  royal  garden  of  Plessis, 
under  the  management  of  able  gardeners,  has  been  the 
most  active  and  fruitful  school  of  French  horticulture. 
Here  have  been  produced  the  "good  Christian  pear,"  the 
Queen  Claude  plum  dedicated  to  the  wife  of  Francis  the 
First,  and  doubtless  a  host  of  other  excellent  fruits  and 
charming  flowers.  In  the  Seventeenth  Century,  the 
gardens  were  abandoned,  or  transformed  into  mulberry  nurs- 
eries :  they  no  longer  gave  impulse  to  local  horticulture, 
but  they  contributed  in  another  way  to  the  prosperity  of 
the  province.  From  1744  to  1762,  the  Plessis  nurseries 
distributed  not  less  than  four  hundred  thousand  feet  of 
mulberry  trees  in  Touraine,  and  which  gave  a  vigorous  im- 
pulse to  the  silk  industry.  The  castle  underwent  a  new 
transformation  in  1778,  became  a  place  of  confine- 


.,-,  PLESSIS-LES-TOURS 

274 

ment  for  vagrants.  Finally,  it  was  alienated  in  the  Revo- 
lution and  partly  demolished.  By  the  cruel  irony  of  Fate, 
the  terrible  abode  of  Louis  XL  has  become  a  depot  for 
fertilizers  ! 


HAMPTON   COURT  PALACE 

ERNEST   LAW 

AMONG  the  many  places  of  interest  that  lie  within 
easy  reach  of  London,  there  is  none,  if  we  except 
Windsor  Castle,  that  can  be  held  to  vie  in  historic  and  ar- 
tistic charms  with  the  Queen's  magnificent  palace  at  Hamp- 
ton Court. 

Nowhere  else  do  we  meet  with  attractions  so  uncommon, 
and  yet  so  varied,  as  those  which  are  to  be  found  within  its 
precincts.  There  we  may  behold  a  building,  which  still  re- 
mains, altered  and  restored  though  it  has  been,  an  almost 
perfect  specimen  of  Tudor  palatial  architecture,  side  by 
side  with  the  best  example  existing  in  England  of  the  de- 
based classic  of  Louis  XIV.,  namely  Wren's  State  Apart- 
ments. There,  too,  we  may  feel,  in  a  more  than  ordinary 
degree,  amid  its  red-brick  courts,  solemn  cloisters,  pictur- 
esque gables,  towers,  turrets,  embattled  parapets,  and  mul- 
lioned  and  latticed  windows,  that  indescribable  charm 
which  invests  all  ancient  and  historic  places.  While  walk- 
ing through  Wolsey's  courts  we  may  recall  the  splendour 
and  wealth  of  the  mighty  Cardinal ;  and  while  standing  in 
Henry  VIII. 's  chapel,  or  his  gorgeous  Gothic  hall,  ponder 
on  the  many  thrilling  events  within  the  palace  in  the  days 
of  the  Tudors  and  Stuarts — the  birth  of  Edward  VI.  and  the 
death  of  Jane  Seymour ;  the  marriages  of  Catherine  Howard 


276  HAMPTON  COURT   PALACE 

and  Catherine  Parr;  the  honeymoons  of  Philip  of  Spain  and 
Mary  Tudor,  and  of  Charles  II.  and  Catherine  of  Braganza  ; 
James  I.'s  conference  with  the  Puritans;  and  Cromwell's 
sojourn  here  in  almost  regal  splendour.  And  while  passing 
through  William  III.'s  splendid  suite  of  rooms,  with  their 
painted  ceilings,  carved  cornices,  tapestried  and  oak-panelled 
walls,  we  may  mentally  people  them  again  with  the  kings 
and  queens,  and  statesmen  and  courtiers,  who  thronged 
them  in  the  last  century.  Moreover,  by  the  aid  of  an  un- 
broken series  of  historical  pictures  and  portraits,  illustrative 
of  three  centuries  of  English  history,  we  may  recall  the 
past  with  a  vividness  that  no  books  can  ever  excite. 

And  then,  when  satiated  with  art  and  archaeology,  we 
can  relax  the  mind  by  wandering  beneath  the  shade  of 
Queen  Anne's  stately  avenues  of  chestnut  and  lime ;  stroll- 
ing in  the  ever  delightful  gardens  where  Wolsey  paced  in 
anxious  meditation  a  few  weeks  before  his  fall ;  where 
Henry  VIII.  made  love  to  Anne  Boleyn  and  to  Catherine 
Howard  ;  along  the  paths  where  Queen  Elizabeth  took  her 
daily  morning  walk  ;  past  the  tennis-court  where  Charles  I. 
played  his  last  game  on  the  day  he  escaped  from  the  palace  ; 
beneath  the  bower  where  Queen  Mary  sat  at  needlework 
with  her  maids  of  honour;  along  the  terrace  to  the  bowl- 
ing-green and  pavilions  where  George  II.  made  love  to 
Mrs.  Howard  and  Mary  Bellenden ;  under  the  lime-groves 
which  sheltered  from  the  sun  Pope  and  Hervey,  Swift  and 
Addison,  Walpole  and  Bolingbroke. 

Yet,  strange  to  say,  though  Hampton  Court  is  so  rich  in 
historic  associations,  it  has  found  no  writer  to  investigate 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE 


277 


and  chronicle  its  past.  Any  one  curious  as  to  its  history 
must  make  researches  for  himself,  or  be  content  with  the 
scanty  and  often  misleading  information  supplied  in  old 
country  histories  and  topographical  works. 

In  the  same  way  its  architecture,  which  is  particularly 
characteristic  of  the  Tudor  period,  and  in  many  points 
most  unique  and  instructive  to  the  student  of  ancient  man- 
ners, has  to  a  great  extent  been  overlooked  in  books  where 
these  topics  are  treated  of. 

The  whole  domain,  consisting  now  of  about  1,900 
acres,  has  been  divided,  probably  ever  since  Saxon  times, 
into  two  parts  by  the  highway  from  Kingston  and  Hampton 
Wick  to  Hampton,  which  passes  in  front  of  the  garden 
gates,  within  250  yards  of  the  palace.  To  the  north  of 
this  road  lies  Bushey  Park,  which,  with  its  appurtenances, 
is  fringed  on  its  western,  northern,  and  eastern  sides  by  the 
districts  of  Hampton,  Teddington,  and  Hampton  Wick; 
while  to  the  south  of  the  Kingston  road  lies  the  House  or 
Home  Park,  bounded  on  its  three  sides  by  the  Thames  and 
the  palace,  with  its  various  subsidiary  buildings,  courtyards, 
gardens,  and  grounds. 

The  natural  features  of  the  country  in  which  Hampton 
Court  is  situated,  are  not  particularly  striking.  The  ground 
is  flat,  with  scarcely  an  undulation  rising  more  than  twenty 
feet  above  the  dead  level,  and  the  soil,  though  light  and 
gravelly,  supports  very  little  indigenous  timber.  Indeed,  in 
primeval  times,  the  whole  district  of  Hampton  appears  to 
have  been  an  open  track,  forming  part  of  the  famous 
Hounslow  Heath,  to  which  it  immediately  adjoins ;  and 


278 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE 


the  thorns  in  Bushey  Park,  with  a  few  ancient  gigantic 
elms  and  oaks  in  the  Home  Park,  are  the  still  surviving 
remnants  or  traces  of  its  original  state.  One  of  the  oaks, 
which  is  believed  to  be  the  largest  in  England,  is  as  much 
as  thirty -seven  feet  in  girth  at  the  waist;  and  there  is  a 
magnificent  elm,  of  which  the  smallest  girth  is  twenty-three 
feet,  and  which  is  known  as  "  The  Two  Sisters,"  or  "  King 
Charles's  Swing." 

Nevertheless,  the  surrounding  prospect  must,  from  the 
earliest  times,  have  been  not  unpleasing.  The  stretch  of 
the  river  opposite  Hampton  Court — studded  with  eyots,and 
bordered  with  luxuriant'  meadows  fringed  with  willows — is 
one  of  the  prettiest  in  the  lower  Thames ;  and  the  stream, 
which  is  particularly  clear  and  swift  at  this  point,  is  always 
lively  with  boats  and  barges.  When  we  add,  that  the  view 
from  the  palace  extends,  across  the  river,  over  a  wide  ex- 
panse of 

"  Meads  forever  crowned  with  flowers," 

clusters  of  trees,  flowery  hedgerows,  and  broad  undulating 
heath-clad  commons, — 

"  To  Claremom's  terraced  height  and  Esher's  groves, 
By  the  soft  windings  of  the  silent  Mole, " 

and  that  in  the  distance  can  be  traced  the  dim  blue  outline 
of  the  Surrey  hills ;  while  on  another  side  appear  the 
crowded  gables  and  the  picturesque  old  church-tower  of 
Kingston,  we  have  enumerated  all  the  natural  and  local 
amenities  of  Hampton  Court. 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE 


279 


Several  motives  probably  weighed  with  Wolsey  in  fixing 
on  Hampton  Court  as  a  residence.  In  the  first  place,  he 
was  in  need  of  a  secluded  country  place,  within  easy  access 
of  London,  whither  he  could  withdraw  occasionally  for  rest 
and  quiet,  without  being  too  far  from  the  centre  of  affairs 
— as  he  would  certainly  have  been,  had  he  retired  to  his 
diocesan  palaces  of  York,  Lincoln,  or  Durham.  At  the 
same  time  he  was  anxious  to  select  a  place  where  his  health, 
which  suffered  much  from  the  fogs  and  smoke  of  London, 
might  be  recruited  in  fresh  and  pure  air.  We  may  presume, 
too,  that  he  was  not  regardless  of  the  advantage  at- 
taching to  a  site  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  in  days 
when,  on  account  of  the  badness  and  danger  of  the  roads, 
no  route  was  so  safe,  convenient  and  expeditious  as  the 
11  silent  highway  "  of  a  river.  Indeed  it  would  take  Wol- 
sey scarcely  more  time  to  be  rowed  down,  by  eight  stout 
oarsmen  from  Hampton  Court  to  the  stairs  of  his  palace  at 
Whitehall,  than  it  now  takes  one  to  go  up  to  Waterloo 
Station  by  the  South  Western  trains. 

Wolsey  had  no  sooner  entered  into  possession  of  Hamp- 
ton Court,  than  he  began  with  characteristic  energy  to  plan 
the  erection  of  a  vast  and  sumptuous  edifice,  commensu- 
rate with  the  dignity  and  wealth  he  had  just  attained  to.  He 
was  then  on  the  threshold  of  his  career  of  greatness,  and 
already  receiving  enormous  revenues. 

The  old  manor-house  already  stood  in  the  midst  of  an 
extensive  domain  of  pasture  land,  consisting  of  some  two 
thousand  acres.  All  this  he  proceeded  to  convert  into  two 
parks,  fencing  them  partly  with  paling,  and  partly  enclos- 


2go  HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE 

ing  them  with  a  stout  red-brick  buttressed  wall,  a  great  part 
of  which  remains  to  this  day,  and  may  be  identified  by  its 
deep  crimson  colour,  toned  here  and  there  with  chequered 
lines  of  black,  burnt  bricks.  There  may  be  found,  too, 
inserted  in  this  wall  of  Wolsey's,  in  the  Kingston  road  near 
the  Paddock,  a  curious  device  of  these  black  bricks,  dis- 
posed in  the  form  of  a  cross  evidently  an  allusion  to  his 
ecclesiastical  character  ;  and  similar  crosses  may  be  observed 
on  an  old  tower,  standing  near  a  piece  of  ground  which 
was  formerly  the  Cardinal's  orchard,  and  on  one  of  the  tur- 
rets in  the  Clock  Court.  At  the  same  time  he  surrounded 
the  house  and  gardens  with  a  great  moat — a  precaution 
which  is  noticeable  as  the  mediaeval  custom  of  so  defend- 
ing dwelling-places  had  generally  died  out,  since  the 
Wars  of  the  Roses,  and  Wolsey's  moat  here  must  have 
been  one  of  the  last  made.  It  remained  as  a  prominent 
feature  in  front  of  the  palace  till  the  time  of  William  III., 
and  traces  of  it  still  exist  on  the  north  side  of  the 
palace. 

His  gardens,  also,  were  to  be  an  appanage  in  every  way 
worthy  of  the  princely  residence  he  was  projecting. 

The  general  plan  and  scope  of  the  building  were,  no 
doubt,  determined  by  the  Cardinal  himself,  whose  style  was 
so  distinct,  both  in  this  palace  and  in  his  other  edifices, 
from  the  ordinary  ecclesiastical  Gothic,  as  to  be  often  des- 
ignated by  the  term,  "  The  Wolsey  Architecture." 

The  material  selected  was  red  brick,  stone  being  em- 
ployed for  the  windows,  the  doorways,  the  copings  of  the 
parapets  and  turrets,  the  string  courses,  and  the  various  or- 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  28l 

namental    details — such  as  pinnacles,  gargoyles,  and  her- 
aldic beasts,  on  gables  and  elsewhere. 

The  first  portion  taken  in  hand  was,  doubtless,  the  great 
west  front  of  the  building,  which  extends,  with  its  two 
wings,  from  north  to  south,  400  feet.  This  facade,  though 
only  two  stories  in  height,  has  considerable  beauty  about 
it,  and  the  picturesque  turrets  at  the  angles  of  the  building,' 
the  embrasured  parapet,  the  chimneys  of  carved  and  twisted 
brick,  the  graceful  gables  with  their  gargoyles  and  pinnacles, 
and  the  varied  mullioned  windows,  form  an  admirable  spec- 
imen of  Tudor  domestic  architecture.  It  still  preserves 
much  of  the  charm  of  old  work,  although  it  has  frequently 
been  subjected  to  repairs  and  alterations ;  but  the  effect  is 
marred  by  the  absence  from  the  numerous  turrets  of  the 
leaden  cupolas  (or  "  types  "  to  use  the  correct  old  English 
term)  which,  with  their  crockets,  pinnacles,  and  gilded 
vanes,  formerly  gave  so  uniquely  picturesque  an  appearance 
to  this  part  of  the  building. 

An  especially  striking  feature  in  Wolsey's  west  front,  as 
in  other  parts  of  the  Tudor  building,  is  the  delicately 
moulded  forms  of  the  chimney  shafts  which  rise  in  vari- 
ously grouped  clusters,  like  slender  turrets  above  the  battle- 
ments and  gables.  They  are  all  of  red  brick,  constructed 
on  many  varieties  of  plan,  and  wrought  and  rubbed,  with 
the  greatest  nicety,  into  different  decorative  patterns.  Some 
are  circular,  some  square  (but  set  diagonally),  and  some 
octagonal  ;  and  they  are  grouped  together  in  twos  or  fours, 
with  their  shafts  sometimes  carded  up  solid,  and  sometimes 
separate. 


2g  2  HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE 

Another  charm  is  the  deep  crimson  of  the  bricks,  ap- 
proximating often  to  a  rich  purple,  which  contrasts  favour- 
ably with  the  staring  scarlet  of  modern  red-brick  work. 
This  is  particularly  the  case  in  the  south  or  right-hand  wing, 
one  of  the  most  picturesque  portions  of  the  whole  palace. 

By  the  month  of  May,  1516,  the  building  had  so  far 
advanced  that  Wolsey  was  able  to  receive  the  King  and 
Queen  at  dinner  in  his  new  abode.  This  was  a  time  when 
Henry  delighted  to  honour  with  his  company  his  "  awne 
goode  Cardinall,"  as  he  termed  him,  at  pleasant  little  en- 
tertainments, when  he  could  throw  off  the  restraints  of 
royalty,  and  join  in  unconventional  intercourse  with  his  per- 
sonal friends.  During  dinner  or  supper  the  minstrels 
usually  played  music,  and  afterwards  the  King  and  a  few 
intimate  friends  took  part  in  a  masquerade  or  an  impromptu 
dance.  Sometimes  he  "  would  oblige  the  company  with  a 
song,"  accompanying  himself  on  the  harpsichord  or  lute. 
At  other  times  the  King  would  visit  the  Cardinal  in  state 
accompanied  by  his  whole  court. 

After  Wolsey's  return  from  the  meeting  at  the  "  Field 
of  the  Cloth  of  Gold,"  in  1520,  he  appears  to  have  made 
more  prolonged  stays  than  heretofore  at  Hampton  Court, 
which  had  now  nearly  arrived  at  that  stage  of  completion  in 
which  he  left  it.  We  are  not  able  exactly  to  define  the 
limits  of  the  Cardinal's  palace,  for  after  his  death  Henry 
VIII.  carried  out  many  alterations  and  additions,  which  in 
their  turn  have  been  subsequently  modified ;  but  we  can 
form  a  rough  idea  of  its  extent.  We  have  already  noticed 
the  West  Front  as  being  entirely  Wolsey's  j  the  same  may 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  283 

be  said  of  the  First  Court,  otherwise  called  the  Base  Court, 
or  Utter  (that  is  Outer)  Court,  which  is  the  largest  court- 
yard in  the  palace,  being  167  feet  from  north  to  south,  and 
142  from  east  to  west.  It  gives  us  no  mean  idea  of  Tudor 
palatial  architecture  ;  and  when  we  restore  in  imagination 
the  green  turf  which  originally  covered  the  area,  the  cupolas 
on  the  turrets,  and  the  latticed  windows,  we  see  it  as  it  ap- 
peared to  the  great  Cardinal  when  riding  through  it  on  his 
mule.  It  has  a  look  of  warmth  and  comfort  and  repose, 
and  an  air  of  picturesque  gloom  which  is  in  pleasing  con- 
trast with  the  staring  vulgarities  of  the  "  cheerful  "  cockney 
buildings  of  the  present  day. 

The  Clock  Court,  access  to  which  is  had  from  the  First 
Court  through  the  archway  of  the  Clock  Tower,  formed 
the  inner  and  principal  part  of  Wolsey's  original  palace  ; 
but  the  alterations  that  it  has  undergone  since  his  time  cause 
it  to  present  a  very  different  appearance  now.  In  the  first 
place,  the  present  Great  Hall,  which  occupies  the  whole  of 
its  north  side,  though  often  called  Wolsey's  hall,  was  not 
erected  by  him,  but,  after  his  death,  by  Henry  VIII.,  though 
it  doubtless  stands  on  the  site  of  the  smaller  and  older  hall 
of  the  Cardinal's  building.  Then  half  of  the  east  side  of 
the  court  was  rebuilt  by  George  II.,  while  the  original 
south  range  is  almost  entirely  obscured  from  view  by  the 
Ionic  colonnade  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren.  Here,  however, 
we  are  in  one  of  the  most  interesting  corners  of  Hampton 
Court  j  for  behind  this  colonnade  remains  the  original 
range  of  buildings  in  which  are  situated  the  very  rooms  oc- 
cupied by  Cardinal  Wolsey  himself. 


284  HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE 

Attached  to  this  corner  was  one  of  the  Cardinal's 
galleries,  in  which  he  used  to  pace,  meditating  on  his  polit- 
ical plans,  on  his  chances  for  the  popedom,  and  on  the 
failing  favour  of  the  King.  To  this,  which  must  have  been 
demolished  by  William  III.,  and  to  the  other  long  galleries 
in  the  First  Court,  Cavendish  makes  reference  in  his 
metrical  life  of  his  master  : 

"  My  galleries  were  fayer,  both  large  and  long 
To  walk  in  them  when  that  it  lyked  me  best." 

On  the  north  side  of  the  last  two  mentioned  courts  is  a 
long  intricate  range  of  buildings,  enclosing  various  smaller 
courts,  and  containing  kitchens  and  other  offices  and  bed- 
rooms for  the  numerous  members  of  his  household.  Much 
of  this  part  of  the  building,  together  with  the  cloisters  and 
courts  to  the  north-east,  called  the  Round  Kitchen  and 
Chapel  Courts,  seem  also  to  have  been  the  work  of  the 
great  Cardinal.  The  chapel,  however,  was  remodelled,  if 
not  entirely  rebuilt,  by  Henry  VIII.,  though  we  may  as- 
sume that  it  occupies  the  same  site  as  that  of  Wolsey  and 
the  ancient  one  of  the  Knights  Hospitallers,  whose  tombs 
perhaps  lie  beneath  the  kitchens  and  other  offices  contig- 
uous to  the  Chapel  Court. 

When,  therefore,  we  take  into  consideration  William 
III.'s  demolitions,  which  included  some  of  the  Cardinal's 
original  structure  as  well  as  Henry  VIII. 's  additions,  we 
may  conclude  that  Wolsey's  palace  cannot  have  been  very 
much  smaller  than  the  existing  one,  which  covers  eight 
acres,  and  has  a  thousand  rooms. 


THE  PALACE  OF  SHAH  JEHAN 

BHOLANAUTH  CHUNDER 

OUR  next  excursion  was  to  the  Fort,  or  Palace  of  Shah 
Jehan,  which  resembles  a  city  on  a  miniature  scale. 
In  circuit,  the  high  red  walls  encompassing  it  are  a  mile  and  a 
half.  The  space  enclosed  is  600,000  yards.  There  is  no 
wall  on  the  river-face.  Bernier's  account  holds  true  to  the 
present  day,  so  far  as  the  walls  are  five  to  six  feet  thick, 
forty  to  fifty  feet  high,  and  flanked  with  turrets  and  cupolas 
at  intervals,  similar  to  those  on  the  walls  of  the  city.  They 
are  built  of  granite,  but  possess  no  more  the  beauty  of 
polished  marble.  The  wide  and  deep  moat  round  the 
walls,  that  he  describes  as  full  of  water,  and  abounding  with 
fish,  is  now  all  dry — the  freestone  pavement  being  beat 
upon  by  the  sun.  No  longer,  also,  beyond  the  moat,  are 
there  any  gardens  extending  to  the  skirts  of  the  royal  abode. 
Facing  the  Now  but- Kh  anna  on  the  inside  about  a 
hundred  and  twenty  yards  distant,  is  the  first  suite  of  the 
royal  buildings,  styled  the  Dewanni-anum,  or  the  hall  of 
public  audience.  The  ranges  of  two-storied  buildings,  once 
about  this  place,  with  their  walls  and  arches  adorned  with  a 
profusion  of  the  richest  tapestries,  velvets,  and  silks,  have 
all  disappeared.  The  Dewanni-anum  of  Shah  Jehan  is 


286  THE  PALACE  OF  SHAH  JEHAN 

considerably  larger  and  loftier  than  the  building  of  the  same 
name  at  Agra.  It  is  a  quadrangular  hall,  open  at  three  sides, 
the  roof  of  which  is  supported  upon  four  rows  of  tall  red- 
stone  pillars,  formerly  ornamented  with  gilt  arabesque 
paintings  of  flowers,  but  now  covered  with  the  eternal 
whitewash.  The  building  was  now  occupied  by  the  troops, 
and  it  was  a  great  disappointment  for  us  to  miss  the 
celebrated  Marble  Throne  which  all  travellers  speak  of 
with  admiration, — though  it  was  in  a  state,  we  were  told, 
that  did  not  make  it  a  very  great  curiosity.  The  throne  is 
in  an  elevated  recess,  or  niche  in  the  back-wall,  from  which 
it  projects  into  the  hall,  in  front  of  the  large  central  arch. 
There  is  a  staircase  to  get  up  to  it,  the  seat  being  raised  ten 
feet  from  the  floor.  The  size  of  the  throne  is  about  ten 
feet,  and  over  it  is  a  marble  canopy  supported  on  four 
marble  pillars,  all  beautifully  inlaid  with  mosaic  work  ex- 
quisitely finished,  but  now  much  dilapidated.  In  the  wall 
behind  is  a  doorway,  by  which  the  emperor  entered  from 
his  apartments  in  the  harem.  This  wall  is  covered  with 
mosaic  paintings  in  precious  stones  of  various  birds,  beasts, 
fruits,  and  flowers.  Many  of  them  are  executed  in  a  very 
natural  manner,  and  represent  the  birds  and  beasts  of  the 
several  countries  ruled  over  by  Shah  Jehan.  On  the  upper 
part,  in  the  centre  of  the  wall  "  is  represented,  in  the  same 
precious  stones,  and  in  the  graceful  attitude,  the  figure  of 
an  European  in  a  kind  of  Spanish  costume,  who  is  playing 
upon  his  guitar."  This  has  been  interpreted  into  a  group 
of  Orpheus,  charming  the  birds  and  beasts  with  his  music, 
and  is  what  decides  the  work  to  be  from  the  hands  of  a 


THE  PALACE  OF  SHAH  JEHAN  287 

French  artist,  mentioned  by  Bernier  under  the  name  of  La 
Grange,  alias  Austin  de  Bordeaux. 

Upon  this  throne  did  Shah  Jehan  seat  himself  every  day 
at  noon,  to  receive  the  compliments  or  petitions  of  his  sub- 
jects. He  appeared  on  such  occasions  in  great  state, 
preceded  by  a  cortege  of  mace-bearers,  bearing  silver  figures 
upon  silver  sticks.  His  sons  sat  on  each  side  of  him, 
decked  in  costly  apparel  and  jewels.  Behind  them  stood  in 
array  eunuchs  in  rich  liveries. "  Some  of  them  drove  off 
flies  by  moving  chowries  made  of  peacocks'  feathers.  Others 
waved  fans  of  coloured  silk  or  velvet,  embroidered  with  gold 
and  precious  stones.  The  ckobdars  and  other  messengers 
waited  next  in  respectful  silence  to  receive  the  commands 
of  the  sovereign.  On  a  fine  large  slab  of  white  marble, 
raised  some  three  feet  above  the  ground,  and  fenced  with 
silver  rails,  stood  the  vizier  and  other  secretaries,  in  front 
of  the  throne,  to  hand  up  petitions  to  their  master,  and  to 
receive  and  convey  his  imperial  commands.  Next  to  them 
stood  in  humble  attendance  tributary  Rajahs,  dependent 
chiefs,  and  ambassadors  from  foreign  princes.  Beyond 
them  was  the  place  for  the  Munsubdars^  who  showed  them- 
selves in  the  same  attitude  of  respect  and  humility  that 
marked  the  demeanour  of  the  other  attendants  in  the  hall. 
In  the  furthermost  part  of  the  building,  as  well  as  in  the 
outer  court  in  front  of  it,  thronged  all  sorts  of  people  and 
visitants  in  one  promiscuous  crowd. 

Thus  hedged  round  by  divinity,  sat  Shah  Jehan,  as  the 
Vicegerent  of  God  upon  earth,  with  his  face  turned  towards 
Mecca. 


288  THE  PALACE  OF  SHAH  JEHAN 

The  next  suite  of  apartments  is  the  Dcwanni-Kbas,  or 
hall  of  private  audience.  There  is  certainly  much  to  admire 
in  this  building,  but  the  expectations  raised  by  reading  are 
not  half  fulfilled.  In  richness  of  materials  it  may  stand 
unrivalled,  but  in  point  of  architectural  design  it  does  not 
possess  more  than  ordinary  excellence. 

Rising  from  a  terrace,  elevated  some  four  to  five  feet 
from  the  ground,  the  Dewanni-Khas  forms  an  oblong- 
shaped  pavilion,  which  measures  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
in  length,  by  forty  feet  in  breadth.  The  height  is  well 
proportioned  to  these  dimensions.  The  building  has  a  flat 
roof,  supported  upon  ranges  of  massive  arcaded  pillars,  all 
of  a  rich  bluish-white  marble.  Between  each  of  the  front 
row  of  pillars  is  a  balustrade  of  the  same  material,  chastely 
carved  in  various  designs  of  perforated  work.  The  cornices 
and  borders  are  decorated  with  a  great  quantity  of  frieze 
and  sculptured  work.  The  top  is  ornamented  with  four 
elegant  marble  pavilions,  with  gilt  cupolas.  In  short,  the 
Dewanni-Khas  is  an  open,  airy,  and  lightsome  building, 
possessing  in  the  highest  degree  all  those  features  which, 
suggested  by  local  climate  form  the  peculiarity  of  Indian 
architecture.  It  is  advantageously  situated  near  the  river, 
and  affords,  on  a  sultry  night,  the  best  place  for  delicious 
zephyrs  to  fan  you  to  sleep. 

Nothing  that  is  recorded  in  fiction  or  fact  comes  up 
to  the  magnificence  of  this  hall.  There  traces  remaining  of 
that  magnificence  are  enough  to  show  that  the  reality  of 
wealth  develops  those  ideas  of  grandeur,  which  surpass  all 
the  imaginings  of  imagination.  The  gorgeous  Pandemonium 


THE  PALACE  OF  SHAH  JEHAN         289 

of  Milton,  of  which  the  idea  may  have  been  taken  from 
Bernier's  account  of  the  Mogul  court,  is  eclipsed  by  the 
Dewanni-Khas,  the  grandeur  of  which  is  not  apocryphal, 
but  a  realized  fact.  That  "jasper  pavement,"  which  the 
mighty  poet  deemed  to  be  so  rich  as  to  adorn  the  court  of 
heaven,  is  seen  here  by  every  individual  with  his  eyes 
broadly  open.  The  pillars  and  arches  are  ornamented  with 
tendrils  of  bright  flowers  and  wreaths  of  bloodstone,  agate, 
jasper,  cornelian,  and  amethyst,  that  seem  "  snatched  as  it 
were  from  the  garden,  and  pressed  into  the  snowy  blocks." 
There  was  a  rich  foliage  of  silver  filagree  work  covering 
the  entire  ceiling.  The  Mahrattas  in  1759,  under  their 
celebrated  General  Bhao,  tore  this  down,  and  melted  it  into 
seventeen  lacs  of  rupees.  It  has  been  replaced  by  one 
of  gilt  copper  worked  in  a  flower  pattern.  Never  could 
the  gorgeous  splendour  of  this  hall  have  been  more  em- 
phatically summed  up  than  in  the  inscription  which  is 
sculptured  in  letters  of  gold  in  the  cornices  of  the  interior 
room — "  If  there  is  a  paradise  upon  earth,  it  is  this,  it  is 
this,  it  is  this." 

In  this  hall  was  the  Tukt  Taous,  or  the  famous  Peacock 
Throne.  It  was  so  called  from  its  having  the  figures  of 
two  peacocks,  with  their  tails  spread,  that  were  so  naturally 
executed  in  sapphires,  rubies,  emeralds,  pearls,  and  other 
precious  stones  of  appropriate  colours,  as  to  represent  life, 
and  strike  every  beholder  with  the  most  dazzling  splendour. 
"  The  throne  itself  was  six  feet  long  by  four  feet  broad;  it 
stood  on  six  massive  feet,  which,  with  the  body,  were  of 
solid  gold,  inlaid  with  rubies,  emeralds,  and  diamonds.  It 


290  THE  PALACE  OF  SHAH  JEHAN 

was  surmounted  by  a  canopy  of  gold  supported  by  twelve 
pillars,  all  richly  emblazoned  with  costly  gems,  and  a  fringe 
of  pearls  ornamented  the  borders  of  the  canopy.  Between 
the  two  peacocks  stood  the  figure  of  a  parrot  of  the  ordinary 
size,  said  to  have  been  carved  out  of  a  single  emerald  (?). 
On  either  side  of  the  throne  stood  a  chatta  or  umbrella,  one 
of  the  Oriental  emblems  of  royalty  ;  they  were  formed  of 
crimson  velvet,  richly  embroidered  and  fringed  with  pearls, 
the  handles  were  eight  feet  high,  of  solid  gold,  and  studded 
with  diamonds."  Tavernier,  a  jeweller  by  profession,  and 
who  saw  this  superb  throne,  estimates  the  cost  of  it  at  six 
and  a  half  millions  sterling,  or  six  crores  of  rupees.  The 
device  was  not  original ;  it  seems  to  have  been  taken  from 
a  representation  of  the  Karteek  of  the  Hindoos.  The 
umbrella,  also,  was  one  of  the  insignia  of  Hindoo  royalty.  It 
was  on  the  birthday  of  Soliman  Sheko  that  the  joy  of 
a  grandfather  had  been  especially  manifested  by  Shah 
Jehan's  first  mounting  the  Tukt  Taous. 

It  is  recorded  by  Bernier,  that  the  "  King  appeared 
seated  upon  this  throne  at  one  extremity  of  the  great  hall 
of  the  Am-Khas,  splendidly  attired,  his  garment  being  of 
white  flowered  satin,  richly  embroidered,  his  turban  of  gold 
cloth,  having  an  aigrette  worked  upon  it,  the  feet  of  which 
were  studded  with  diamonds  of  extraordinary  lustre  and 
value,  and  in  the  centre  was  a  beautiful  Oriental  topaz  of 
matchless  size  and  splendour,  shining  like  a  little  sun  : 
round  his  neck  was  a  string  of  pearls,  of  great  value,  which 
hung  down  to  his  waist.  The  throne  on  which  he  sat  was 
supported  by  six  pillars  of  massive  gold,  enriched  with  a 


THE  PALACE  OF  SHAH  JEHAN         29! 

profusion  of  rubies,  emeralds,  and  diamonds,  and  his  other 
insignia  of  state  were  embellished  with  equal  grandeur. 
.  .  .  The  pillars  of  the  hall  were  magnificently  orna- 
mented with  gold  tapestry,  and  the  ceiling  was  covered 
over  with  beautiful  flowered  satin,  fastened  with  red  silk 
cords,  having  at  each  corner  festoons  with  gold  tassels. 
Below  nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  rich  silk  tapestries  of  ex- 
traordinary dimensions.  In  the  court,  at  a  little  distance, 
was  pitched  a  tent  called  the  Aspek,  which  in  length  and 
breadth  somewhat  exceeded  the  hall,  and  reached  almost  to 
the  centre  of  the  court.  It  was  likewise  surrounded  with  a 
large  balustrade  of  solid  silver,  and  supported  by  three 
poles,  of  the  height  and  thickness  of  a  large  mast,  and  by 
several  smaller  ones, — covered  with  plates  of  silver.  The 
outside  was  red,  and  the  lining  within  of  beautiful  chintz, 
manufactured  expressly  for  the  purpose  at  Masulipatam, 
representing  a  hundred  different  flowers,  so  naturally  done, 
and  the  colours  so  vivid,  that  one  would  imagine  it  to  be  a 
hanging  parterre."  No  mention  of  the  Koh-i-noor  appears 
in  this  account — it  must  have  been  somewhere,  either  in 
the  Peacock  Throne,  or  on  the  arm  or  turban  of  the  mon- 
arch. Possibly,  the  string  of  pearls  spoken  of  was  the 
same  that  Runjeet  Sing  afterwards  wore  around  his  waist. 
The  cynicism  of  a  poet  may  style  all  this  as  "  barbaric 
pearl  and  gold,"  but  it  is  what,  after  all,  quiets  the  yearn- 
ings of  all  civilized  men. 

The  Peacock  Throne  no  longer  exists.  It  was  carried 
off  as  a  trophy  by  Nadir  Shah,  and  had  to  be  broken  up  in 
all  probability,  into  ten  thousand  pieces  of  stone,  now  scat- 


292  THE  PALACE  OF  SHAH  JEHAN 

tered  all  over  the  world.  In  its  place  is  a  simple  marble 
throne  that  by  itself  is  not  an  ordinary  piece  of  workman- 
ship. In  strolling  through  the  hall  we  paused  before  this 
throne  ;  and  as  a  monument  of  fallen  greatness  it  failed  not 
to  affect  us  with  the  usual  sentiment  of"  all  is  vanity  under 
the  sun."  It  may  be  looked  upon  almost  as  the  seat  of 
Shah  Jehan,  and  Aurungzebe,  and  Shah  Alum, — and  raises 
a  host  of  associations  that  come  rapping  at  the  door  of 
memory.  Here  stood  the  graceful  Soliman,  his  hands 
bound  in  gilded  fetters,  entreating  in  the  most  pathetic 
language  to  be  put  to  death  at  once,  rather  than  be  sen- 
tenced to  die  by  slow  poison, — thereby  affecting  many  of 
the  courtiers  to  tears,  and  making  the  ladies  of  the  harem 
to  weep  aloud  from  behind  the  screens.  Here  Sevajee  in 
expectation  of  an  honourable  reception,  but  finding  himself 
to  be  treated  with  studied  neglect,  could  not  control  his 
feelings  of  indignation,  changed  colour,  and  sank  to  the 
ground  in  a  swoon, — while  a  daughter  of  Aurungzebe,  see- 
ing the  young  stranger  from  behind  a  curtain,  became 
enamoured  of  him.  Here  sat  Mahomed  Shah  bandying 
compliments  with  Nadir  Shah,  and  sipping  coffee,  while 
the  corpses  of  a  hundred  thousand  slaughtered  Delhi-ites 
tainted  the  air.  It  is  related  "  that  the  coffee  was  delivered 
to  the  two  sovereigns  in  this  room  upon  a  gold  salver,  by 
the  most  polished  gentleman  of  the  court.  His  motions,  as 
he  entered  the  gorgeous  apartment,  amidst  the  splendid 
trains  of  the  two  emperors,  were  watched  with  great 
anxiety  ;  if  he  presented  the  coffee  first  to  his  own  master, 
the  furious  conqueror,  before  whom  the  sovereign  of  India 


THE  PALACE  OF  SHAH  JEHAN        293 

and  all  his  courtiers  trembled,  might  order  him  to  instant 
execution ;  if  he  presented  it  to  Nadir  first,  he  would  in- 
sult his  own  sovereign  out  of  fear  of  the  stranger.  To  the 
astonishment  of  all,  he  walked  up  with  a  steady  step,  direct 
to  his  own  master.  1 1  cannot,'  said  he,  c  aspire  to  the 
honour  of  presenting  the  cup  to  the  King  of  Kings,  your 
Majesty's  honoured  guest,  nor  would  your  Majesty  wish 
that  any  hand  but  your  own  should  do  so.'  The  emperor 
took  the  cup  from  the  golden  salver,  and  presented  it  to 
Nadir  Shah,  who  said  with  a  smile  as  he  took  it,  l  Had  all 
your  officers  known  and  done  their  duty  like  this  man,  you 
had  never,  my  good  cousin,  seen  me  and  my  Kussilbashees 
at  Delhi ;  take  care  of  him,  for  your  own  sake,  and  get 
round  you  as  many  like  him  as  you  can.' ' 

The  Dewanni-Khas  is  now  all  desolate  and  forlorn.  It 
is  a  matter  of  heartfelt  regret  to  see  the  barbarous  ravages 
that  have  been  committed  in  picking  out  the  different 
precious  stones.  There  is  a  mark  of  violence  on  one  of  the 
pillars,  which  the  Mahrattas  attempted  to  break.  No  rose- 
beds  or  fountains  about  the  building  now — only  the  bare 
skeleton  of  it  is  standing.  The  Great  Mogul's  hall  of 
audience  was,  till  lately,  used  as  a  museum,  the  contents 
of  which  have  been  now  removed  to  the  new  Delhi 
Institute. 

The  freest  public  lounge  is  not  more  open  to  access  than 
is  now  the  seat  of  Mogul  jealousy — the  Seraglio.  "  There 
was  scarcely  a  chamber  that  had  not  a  reservoir  adjoining 
it — with  parterres,  beautiful  walks,  groves,  rivulets,  foun- 
tains, grottos,  jets  of  water,  alcoves,  and  raised  terraces  to 


294  THE  PALACE  OF  SHAH  JEHAN 

sleep  upon,  and  enjoy  the  cool  air  at  night."  Now  that 
everything  has  disappeared,  this  description  of  Bernier 
seems  to  be  almost  imaginary — an  account  of  the  "  baseless 
fabric  of  a  vision."  The  "  parterres,"  "  walks,"  "  groves," 
"grottos,"  and  "  raised  terraces  "  have  all  ceased  to  exist. 


EDINBURGH   CASTLE 

ROBERT    LOUIS    STEVENSON 

"IV  /T  EDITATIVE  people  will  find  a  charm  in  a  certain 
XV J.  conancy  between  the  aspect  of  the  city  and  its 
odd  and  stirring  history.  Few  places,  if  any,  offer  a  more 
barbaric  display  of  contrasts  to  the  eye.  In  the  very  midst 
stands  one  of  the  most  satisfactory  crags  in  nature — a  Bass 
Rock  upon  dry  land,  rooted  in  a  garden,  shaken  by  passing 
trains,  carrying  a  crown  of  battlements  and  turrets,  and 
describing  its  warlike  shadow  over  the  liveliest  and  brightest 
thoroughfare  of  the  new  town.  From  their  smoky  bee- 
hives, ten  stories  high,  the  unwashed  look  down  upon  the 
open  squares  and  gardens  of  the  wealthy ;  and  gay  people 
sunning  themselves  along  Princes  Street,  with  its  mile  of 
commercial  palaces  all  beflagged  upon  some  great  occasion, 
see,  across  a  gardened  valley  set  with  statues,  where  the 
washings  of  the  old  town  flutter  in  the  breeze  at  its  high 
windows.  And  then,  upon  all  sides,  what  a  clashing  of 
architecture !  In  this  one  valley,  where  the  life  of  the 
town  goes  most  busily  forward,  there  may  be  seen,  shown 
one  above  and  behind  another  by  the  accidents  of  the 
ground,  buildings  in  almost  every  style  upon  the  globe. 
Egyptian  and  Greek  temples,  Venetian  palaces  and  Gothic 
spires,  are  huddled  one  over  another  in  a  most  admired  dis- 
order; while,  above  all,  the  brute  mass  of  the  Castle  and 


296 


EDINBURGH  CASTLE 


the  summit  of  Arthur's  Seat  look  down  upon  these  imita- 
tions with  a  becoming  dignity,  as  the  works  of  Nature  may 
look  down  upon  the  monuments  of  Art.  But  Nature  is  a 
more  indiscriminate  patroness  than  we  imagine,  and  in  no 
way  frightened  of  a  strong  effect.  The  birds  roost  as 
willingly  among  the  Corinthian  capitals  as  in  the  crannies 
of  the  crag ;  the  same  atmosphere  and  daylight  clothe  the 
eternal  rock  and  yesterday's  imitation  portico ;  and  as  the 
soft  northern  sunshine  throws  out  everything  into  a  glorified 
distinctness — or  easterly  mists,  coming  up  with  the  blue 
evening  fuse  all  these  incongruous  features  into  one,  and 
the  lamps  begin  to  glitter  along  the  street,  and  faint  lights 
to  burn  in  the  high  windows  across  the  valley — the  feeling 
grows  upon  you  that  this  also  is  a  piece  of  nature  in  the 
most  intimate  sense ;  that  this  profusion  of  eccentricities, 
this  dream  in  masonry  and  living  rock,  is  not  a  drop-scene 
in  a  theatre,  but  a  city  in  the  world  of  e very-day  reality, 
connected  by  railway  and  telegraph-wire  with  all  the  capitals 
of  Europe,  and  inhabited  by  citizens  of  the  familiar  type, 
who  keep  ledgers  and  attend  church,  and  have  sold  their 
immortal  portion  to  a  daily  paper.  By  all  the  canons  of 
romance,  the  place  demands  to  be  half  deserted  and  leaning 
towards  decay ;  birds  we  might  admit  in  profusion,  the 
play  of  the  sun  and  winds,  and  a  few  gypsies  encamped  in 
the  chief  thoroughfare :  but  these  citizens,  with  their  cabs 
and  tramways,  their  trains  and  posters,  are  altogether  out  of 
key.  Chartered  tourists,  they  make  free  with  historic 
localities,  and  rear  their  young  among  the  most  picturesque 
sites  with  a  grand  human  indifference.  To  see  them 


EDINBURGH  CASTLE 


297 


thronging  by,  in  their  neat  clothes  and  conscious  moral 
rectitude,  and  with  a  little  air  of  possession  that  verges 
on  the  absurb,  is  not  the  least  striking  feature  of  the 
place. 

The  Old  Town,  it  is  pretended,  is  the  chief  characteristic, 
and,  from  a  picturesque  point  of  view,  the  liver-wing  of 
Edinburgh.  It  is  one  of  the  most  common  forms  of  de- 
preciation to  throw  cold  water  on  the  whole  by  adroit  over- 
commendation  of  a  part,  since  everything  worth  judging, 
whether  it  be  a  man,  a  work  of  art,  or  only  a  fine  city, 
must  be  judged  upon  its  merits  as  a  whole.  The  Old 
Town  depends  for  much  of  its  effect  on  the  new  quarters 
that  lie  around  it,  on  the  sufficiency  of  its  situation,  and  on 
the  hills  that  back  it  up.  If  you  were  to  set  it  somewhere 
else  by  itself,  it  would  look  remarkably  like  Stirling  in  a 
bolder  and  loftier  edition.  The  point  is  to  see  this  embel- 
lished Stirling  planted  in  the  midst  of  a  large,  active,  and 
fantastic  modern  city;  for  there  the  two  re-act  in  a 
picturesque  sense,  and  the  one  is  the  making  of  the  other. 

The  Old  Town  occupies  a  sloping  ridge  or  tail  of 
diluvial  matter,  protected,  in  some  subsidence  of  the  waters, 
by  the  Castle  cliffs,  which  fortify  it  to  the  west.  On  the 
one  side  of  it  and  the  other  the  new  towns  of  the  south 
and  of  the  north  occupy  their  lower,  broader,  and  more 
gentle  hill-tops.  Thus,  the  quarter  of  the  Castle  overtops 
the  whole  city  and  keeps  an  open  view  to  sea  and  land.  It 
dominates  for  miles  on  every  side ;  and  people  on  the 
decks  of  ships,  or  ploughing  in  quiet  country  places  over  in 
Fife,  can  see  the  banner  on  the  Castle  battlements,  and  the 


298 


EDINBURGH  CASTLE 


smoke  of  the  Old  Town  blowing  abroad  over  the  subjacent 
country.  A  city  that  is  set  upon  a  hill.  It  was,  I  suppose, 
from  this  distant  aspect  that  she  got  her  name  of  Auld 
Reekie.  Perhaps  it  was  given  her  by  people  who  had  never 
crossed  her  doors  j  day  after  day,  from  their  various  rustic 
Pisgahs,  they  had  seen  the  pile  of  building  on  the  hill-top, 
and  the  long  plume  of  smoke  over  the  plain ;  so  it  appeared 
to  them ;  so  it  had  appeared  to  their  fathers  tilling  the  same 
field ;  and  as  that  was  all  they  knew  of  the  place,  it  could 
be  all  expressed  in  two  words. 

There  is  a  silly  story  of  a  subterranean  passage  between 
the  Castle  and  Holy  rood,  and  a  bold  Highland  piper  who 
volunteered  to  explore  its  windings.  He  made  his  entrance 
by  the  upper  end,  playing  a  strathspey  ;  the  curious  footed 
it  after  him  down  the  street,  following  his  descent  by  the 
sound  of  the  chanter  from  below ;  until  all  of  a  sudden, 
about  the  level  of  St.  Giles's,  the  music  came  abruptly  to  an 
end,  and  the  people  in  the  street  stood  at  fault  with  hands 
uplifted.  Whether  he  was  choked  with  gasses,  or  perished 
in  a  quag,  or  was  removed  bodily  by  the  Evil  One,  remains 
a  point  of  doubt ;  but  the  piper  has  never  again  been  seen 
or  heard  of  from  that  day  to  this.  Perhaps  he  wandered 
down  into  the  land  of  Thomas  the  Rhymer,  and  some  day, 
when  it  is  least  expected,  may  take  a  thought  to  revisit  the 
sunlit  upper  world.  That  will  be  a  strange  moment  for  the 
cabmen  on  the  stands  beside  St.  Giles's,  when  they  hear 
the  drone  of  his  pipes  reascending  from  the  bowels  of  the 
earth  below  their  horses'  feet. 

Of  all  places  for  a  view  Calton  Hill  is  perhaps  the  best ; 


EDINBURGH  CASTLE 


299 


since  you  can  see  the  Castle,  which  you  lose  from  the 
Castle,  and  Arthur's  Seat,  which  you  cannot  see  from 
Arthur's  Seat.  It  is  the  place  to  stroll  on  one  of  those 
days  of  sunshine  and  east  wind  which  are  so  common  in 
our  more  than  temperate  summer.  Upon  the  right,  the 
roofs  and  spire  of  the  Old  Town  climb  one  above 
another  to  where  the  citadel  prints  its  broad  bulk  and 
jagged  crown  of  bastions  on  the  western  sky. — Perhaps  it 
is  now  one  in  the  afternoon  ;  and  at  the  same  instant  of 
time,  a  ball  rises  to  the  summit  of  Nelson's  flagstaff  close 
at  hand,  and,  far  away,  a  puff  of  smoke  followed  by  a  re- 
port bursts  from  the  half-moon  battery  at  the  Castle.  This 
is  the  time-gun  by  which  people  set  their  watches,  as  far  as 
the  sea-coast  or  in  hill  farms  upon  the  Pentlands.  And 
while  you  are  looking  across  upon  the  Castle  Hill,  the 
drums  and  bugles  begin  to  recall  the  scattered  garrison;  the 
air  thrills  with  the  sound  ;  the  bugles  sing  aloud ;  and  the 
last  rising  flourish  mounts  and  melts  into  the  darkness  like 
a  star  :  a  martial  swan-song,  fitly  rounding  in  the  labours  of 
the  day. 


EDINBURGH  CASTLE 
JAMES    NORRIS    BREWER 

THE  Castle  of  Edinburgh  was  originally  denominated 
Castelh  Mynyd  dgned,  that  is,  "  the  fortress  of  the 
hill  of  Agnes ;  "  and  the  hill  itself  was  termed  Mynyd 
Agned  Cathre-gonion,  which  implies  in  the  language  of  the 
ancient  Britons,  "the  Hill  Agned  nigh  the  fortress."  From 
which  appellations  it  would  appear  that  the  Castle  was 
founded  after  the  introduction  of  Christianity  to  Scotland. 
At  a  subsequent  period,  the  fortress  was  called  Castrum 
Puellarum,  because,  as  some  assert,  the  daughters  of  the 
Pictish  chiefs  received  "their  education  "  in  the  Castle.  It 
is  beyond  a  question  that  a  very  short  period  would  have 
been  sufficient  for  all  the  instruction  which  the  rude  chief- 
tains of  the  Picts  were  anxious  to  bestow  on  the  daughters  ; 
but  the  Castle  answered  a  more  needful  purpose,  by  pro- 
tecting those  high-born  damsels  from  the  indignities  to 
which  they  might  have  been  subject  in  a  residence  of  less 
strength,  while  their  fathers  and  brothers  were  despoiling 
neighbouring  territories,  and  making  free  with  the  families  of 
conquered  rivals.  Some  persons  have  wished  to  ascribe  a 
very  remote  origin  to  Edinburgh  Castle ;  but  it  is  certain 
that  a  battle  was  fought  on  the  site  of  the  building  by 
Arthur,  King  of  the  Britons,  towards  the  close  of  the  Fifth 
Century. 


EDINBURGH  CASTLE  30 1 

The  ground-plot  of  the  fortress  occupies  about  six  acres. 
At  the  western  extremity  is  the  outer  barrier,  which  is 
formed  of  strong  palisadoes.  Beyond  this  are  a  dry  ditch, 
a  draw-bridge  and  a  gate,  defended  by  two  flanking  bat- 
teries. 

In  the  south-east  quarter  of  the  castle,  state-prisoners  were 
formerly  kept,  and  here,  in  an  apartment  called  the  crown- 
room  it  is  by  some  pretended  that  the  regalia  of  Scotland  are 
still  deposited.  It  is  well  known  that  they  were  lodged 
here,  with  much  formality  on  the  26th  of  March,  1707. 

Neither  history  nor  tradition  records  any  circumstance  in 
which  Edinburgh  Castle  is  conspicuous,  till  the  year  1093. 
On  the  authority  of  Fordun  and  Dairy mple,  the  following 
story  concerning  that  period  is  related : — when  Malcolm 
Canmore  was  slain  in  battle,  his  widow,  Queen  Margaret, 
took  refuge  in  the  Castle  of  Edinburgh,  where  she  very 
shortly  died.  "Donald  Bane,  uncle  to  Malcolm's  children, 
having  usurped  the  throne,  now  besieged  the  Castle  in  which 
the  orphan-heir  to  the  crown  resided.  The  usurper,  presum- 
ing from  the  steepness  of  the  rock  that  Malcolm's  children 
could  escape  only  at  the  gates,  ordered  them  alone  to  be 
guarded.  But  those  in  the  garrison,  knowing  this,  con- 
veyed the  body  of  the  Queen  through  a  postern  gate  on  the 
west  side  of  the  Castle,  to  the  church  of  Dunfermline, 
where  it  lies  interred  :  and  the  children  escaping  to  England, 
where  they  were  protected  and  educated  by  their  uncle, 
Edgar  Atheling." 

After  the  murder  of  James  I.  at  Perth,  the  son  and  suc- 
cessor of  that  Monarch,  who  inherited  the  crown  at  the 


302 


EDINBURGH  CASTLE 


age  of  seven  years,  was  placed  under  the  care  of  Crichton, 
the  chancellor,  while  Sir  Thomas  Livingstone  was  ap- 
pointed regent.  But  a  quarrel  occurring  between  the  two 
great  officers  of  state,  James  was  detained,  in  splendid  con- 
finement, at  Edinburgh  Castle,  by  Sir  William  Crichton. 
But  the  Queen-Dowager,  who  favoured  the  opposite  party, 
resolved  to  rescue  her  son,  and  place  him  in  the  hands  of 
the  regent.  In  pursuit  of  this  purpose,  she  paid  a  visit  to 
the  youthful  Sovereign,  during  which  she  affected  to  dis- 
play great  friendship  towards  the  chancellor,  and  asserted 
an  intention  of  never  interfering  in  matters  of  state. 
Crichton  was  deceived  by  these  assurances,  and  readily 
granted  the  Queen  permission  to  remove  certain  articles 
from  the  Castle,  which  would  be  wanted  by  her  in  the 
course  of  a  pilgrimage  to  a  church  in  East  Lothian,  which 
she  was  on  the  point  of  undertaking.  The  effects  were 
conveyed  from  the  Castle  at  an  early  hour  of  the  morning, 
and  among  them,  concealed  in  a  trunk,  was  removed  the 
young  King,  who  was  supposed  to  be  asleep  and  secure  in 
his  chamber.  A  vessel  was  ready,  and  he,  the  same  night, 
reached.  Stirling,  where  he  was  received  with  open  arms  by 
the  triumphant  Queen  and  regent. 

But  the  fruit  of  the  Queen's  ingenuity  was  soon  wrested 
from  her  by  the  superior  address  of  the  chancellor. 
Crichton  knew  that  the  King  hunted  frequently  in  the 
woods  near  Stirling,  and  he  watched  an  opportunity  during 
the  absence  of  the  regent,  to  conceal  himself,  and  a  de- 
termined band,  in  the  deep  shade  of  a  wood  through  which 
it  was  likely  the  King  would  pass.  James  fell  into  the 


EDINBURGH  CASTLE 

snare,  and  the  chancellor,  with  many  protestations  of  respect, 
and  much  show  of  real  courtesy,  conducted  him  to  his  former 
place  of  secluded  residence. 

The  over-weening  power  and  extreme  insolence  of  the 
Earl  of  Douglas  caused  a  reconciliation  to  take  place, 
shortly  after  this  event,  between  the  chancellor  and  the 
regent,  who  were  mutually  apprehensive  of  the  ill  conse- 
quences of  a  division  in  the  state,  while  the  ambitious 
Douglas  was  daily  increasing  in  authority  and  turbulence. 
Convinced  of  the  inefficacy  of  the  executive  power  to  in- 
flict justice  on  the  Earl,  or  to  put  a  stop  to  his  oppressive 
proceedings,  the  two  new  co-adjutors  resolved  on  proving 
the  sincerity  of  their  alliance,  by  the  assassination  of  their 
rival ;  and,  for  this  purpose,  the  chancellor  decoyed  him 
into  the  Castle.  Lord  Douglas  was  treated  with  so  much 
well-counterfeited  respect  that  he  felt  assured  of  security, 
and  consented  to  share  a  banquet  with  the  King  and  the 
two  great  officers  who  ruled  in  the  Monarch's  name.  Here 
smiles  and  hilarity  prevailed  :  the  regent  flattered  the  pride 
of  Douglas,  and  the  chancellor  pressed  his  hand,  with 
warm  assurances  of  attachment.  But,  towards  the  con- 
clusion of  the  entertainment,  a  bull's  head  was  set  before 
the  unsuspicious  guest.  Douglas  understood  the  fatal  sym- 
bol, and  sprang  from  the  table ;  but  he  was  instantly  sur- 
rounded by  armed  men,  who  dragged  him,  in  spite  of  the 
King's  tears  and  supplications,  to  the  outer  court  of  the 
Castle,  where  he  was  murdered. 


LAMBTON  CASTLE 

WILLIAM  HOWITT 

LAMBTON  CASTLE  is  a  perfect  and  expressive 
image  of  the  feudalism  of  the  Nineteenth  Century ; 
of  feudalism  made  easy,  to  the  present  generation ;  of 
feudalism  which  has  never  ceased  to  exist,  whatever  con- 
cussions shook  the  empire,  or  whatever  spasms  rocked  the 
constitution ;  which  has  for  the  greater  part  of  a  thousand 
years  fought  its  way,  whether  in  steel  jacket  or  in  scarlet 
broadcloth,  with  spear  or  with  musket;  which  has  never 
failed  to  hold  its  own,  and  to  hand  down  the  huge  domains 
which  it  won  in  England,  under  the  banners  of  William 
of  Normandy.  It  is  now  polished  indeed,  but  it  is  still 
strong ;  it  prides  itself  on  its  most  ancient  style  of  habita- 
tion, but  over  and  around  that  habitation  it  has  poured  the 
grace  of  modern  art,  and  filled  it  with  all  the  amenities,  the 
comforts,  the  softnesses,  and  intellectual  resources  of  a  busy, 
scientific,  refined,  and  luxurious  age.  Such  is  the  entire 
character  of  Lambton  Castle.  You  see  before  you,  indeed, 
Gothic  towers  and  battlements,  but  around  them  spread 
lawns  such  only  as  England  and  the  England  of  our  day 
knows.  You  approach  it  by  roads  not  made  for  the  hoofs 
of  old  war  horses  to  disturb,  but  for  the  wheels  of  gay 
chariots  to  roll  over;  and  wjthin  you  find  a  glittering  and 
sumptuous  succession  of  books,  paintings,  statues,  marble 


LAMBTON    CASTLE  305 

pillars,  gorgeous  vases,  soft  carpets  of  richest  dyes  and 
softer  beds, curtained  into  silken  privacy;  and  all  the  name- 
less and  numberless  little  articles  and  marks  of  taste,  which, 
to  a  true  old  castle-dweller,  would  form  a  wilderness  of 
contemptible  baubles,  and  a  heap  of  articles  that  he  would 
never  even  wish  to  want. 

At  the  time  that  I  visited  Lambton  Castle,  its  possessor 
was  even  then  seeking  relief  from  indisposition  in  the  south 
of  England,  and  serious  fears  were  entertained  that  his  life 
would  not  be  long.  That  curious  old  legend  of  Lambton, 
of  which  we  shall  have  presently  to  speak,  seemed  still,  in 
the  physical  condition  of  the  existing  lord,  to  assert  that  it 
was  more  than  a  superstition  of  the  old  times,  but  was 
founded  on  an  influence  fatal  to  the  longevity  of  the  race. 
Though  the  period  of  the  spell  was  said  to  terminate  in 
General  Lambton,  as  the  ninth  in  descent  from  the  slayer 
of  the  Worm,  yet  neither  his  son  nor  his  grandson  has 
been  longer  lived,  nor  have  they  died  at  home. 

It  was  not  without  a  more  sensible  interest,  that,  reflect- 
ing on  these  circumstances,  I  went  through  the  grounds 
and  the  Castle  of  Lambton.  Here  were  all  that  nature  and 
art  could  effect  in  combination  to  make  a  noble  abode  for 
its  possessor;  but  a  mysterious  fiat  of  destiny  seemed  to  be 
pronounced  over  the  race,  of  short  and  embittered  enjoy- 
ment of  it. 

The  Wear  here  performs  some  of  its  most  beautiful 
windings,  for  which  it  is  so  remarkable,  and  its  lofty  banks 
hung  with  fine  woods,  presented  the  most  lovely  views 
whichever  way  you  looked.  A  new  bridge  leads  across  the 


306  LAMBTON  CASTLE 

river,  and  a  winding  carriage-road  conducts  you  by  an  easy 
ascent  through  pleasant  woodlands  up  to  the  Castle.  You 
pass  under  a  light  suspension  bridge  which  leads  from  the 
Castle,  along  the  banks  above  the  river,  through  the  woods 
of  great  beauty,  and  where  you  find  the  most  pleasant  soli- 
tudes, with  varied  views  of  the  river  and  sounds  of  its 
hurrying  water.  The  Castle,  in  all  its  newness  of  aspect, 
stands  boldly  on  the  height  above  the  river,  with  beautiful 
green  slopes  descending  towards  it.  As  you  approach  the 
Castle,  and  enter  it,  everything  impresses  you  with  a  sense 
of  its  strength,  tastefulness,  and  completeness.  The  com- 
pact and  well-built  walls  of  clam-stone ;  the  well-paved 
and  well-finished  courts ;  the  numerous  and  complete  offi- 
ces; the  kitchens,  furnished  with  every  convenience  and 
implement  that  modern  skill  and  ingenuity  can  bring  to- 
gether ;  all  tell  you  that  you  are  in  the  abode  of  a  man  of 
the  amplest  resources.  As  you  advance,  elegance  and 
luxury  are  added  to  completeness ;  and  you  are  surrounded 
not  by  the  rude  and  quaint  objects  of  our  old  houses,  but 
by  the  rich  requisites  of  present  aristocratic  existence. 
The  snug  boudoir,  the  lord's  dressing-room,  the  bath,  the 
library,  the  saloon,  the  drawing-room,  and  all  the  various 
apartments  of  a  noble  modern  house,  into  which  are  some- 
times crowded  several  hundred  guests — we  shall  not  at- 
tempt to  describe. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  things  about  Lambton,  is 
that  Legend  of  the  Worm,  and  the  popular  ideas  attached 
to  it,  to  which  we  have  already  alluded.  The  story  of  the 
Worm  of  Lambton  cannot  be  better  told  than  in  the  words 


LAMBTON  CASTLE 


307 


of  Surtees :  "  The  heir  of  Lambton,  fishing,  as  was  his 
profane  custom,  in  the  Wear  of  a  Sunday,  hooked  a  small 
worm  or  eft,  which  he  carelessly  threw  into  a  well,  and 
thought  no  more  of  the  adventure.  The  worm,  at  first  neg- 
lected, grew  till  it  was  too  large  for  its  first  habitation,  and 
issuing  forth  from  the  Worm  Well,  betook  itself  to  the 
Wear,  where  it  usually  lay  a  part  of  the  day  coiled  round  a 
crag  in  the  middle  of  the  water ;  it  also  frequented  a  green 
mound  near  the  well,  called  thence  c  The  Worm  HillJ 
where  it  lapped  itself  nine  times  round,  leaving  vermicular 
traces,  of  which,  grave  living  witnesses  depose  that  they 
have  seen  the  vestiges.  It  now  became  the  terror  of  the 
country  ;  and,  amongst  other  enormities,  levied  a  daily  con- 
tribution of  nine  cows'  milk,  which  was  always  placed  for 
it  at  the  green  hill,  and  in  default  of  which  it  devoured  man 
and  beast.  Young  Lambton  had,  it  seems,  meanwhile, 
totally  repented  him  of  his  former  life  and  conversation ; 
had  bathed  himself  in  a  bath  of  holy  water,  taken  the  sign 
of  the  Cross,  and  joined  the  Crusaders.  On  his  return 
home  he  was  extremely  shocked  at  witnessing  the  effects 
of  his  youthful  imprudence,  saw  that  the  Worm  must  be  at 
once  destroyed,  and  immediately  undertook  the  adventure. 
After  several  fierce  combats,  in  which  the  crusader  was 
foiled  by  his  enemy's  power  of  self-union,  he  found  it  expe- 
dient to  add  policy  to  courage,  and  not,  perhaps,  possessing 
much  of  the  former  quality,  he  went  to  consult  a  witch,  or 
wise  woman.  By  her  judicious  advice,  he  armed  himself 
in  a  coat  of  mail,  studded  with  razor-blades,  and  thus  pre- 
pared, placed  himself  on  the  crag  in  the  river,  and  awaited 


o08  LAMBTON  CASTLE 

the  monster's  arrival.  At  the  usual  time,  the  Worm  came 
to  the  rock,  and  wound  himself  with  great  fury  round  the 
armed  knight,  who  had  the  satisfaction  to  see  his  enemy 
cut  in  pieces  by  his  own  efforts,  while  the  stream  washing 
away  the  several  parts  prevented  the  possibility  of  re-union. 
There  is  still  a  sequel  to  the  story.  The  witch  had  prom- 
ised Lambton  success  only  on  one  condition — that  he 
would  slay  the  first  living  thing  which  met  his  sight  after 
the  victory.  To  avoid  the  possibility  of  human  slaughter, 
Lambton  had  directed  his  father,  that  as  soon  as  he  heard 
him  sound  three  blasts  on  his  bugle,  in  token  of.  the 
achievement  performed,  he  should  release  his  favourite 
greyhound,  which  would  immediately  fly  to  the  sound  of 
the  horn,  and  was  destined  to  be  the  sacrifice.  On  hearing 
his  son's  bugle,  however,  the  old  chief  was  so  overjoyed 
that  he  forgot  his  injunctions,  and  ran  himself  with  open 
arms  to  meet  his  son.  Instead  of  committing  a  parricide, 
the  conqueror  again  repaired  to  his  adviser,  who  pro- 
nounced, as  the  alternative  of  disobeying  the  original  in- 
structions, that  no  chief  of  the  Lambtons  should  die  in  his 
bed  for  seven,  or,  as  some  accounts  say,  for  nine  genera- 
tions— a  commutation  which,  to  a  martial  spirit,  had  noth- 
ing probably  very  terrible,  and  which  was  willingly  com- 
plied with." 

Popular  tradition  assigns  the  chapel  of  Brigford  as  the 
spot  where  Lambton  offered  up  his  vows  before  and  after 
the  adventure.  In  the  garden-house  at  Lambton  are  two 
figures  of  great  antiquity.  A  knight,  in  good  style,  armed 
cap-a-pie,  the  back  however  not  studded  with  razor  blades^ 


LAMBTON  CASTLE 


3°9 


who  holds  the  Worm  by  one  ear  with  his  left  hand,  and 
with  his  right,  thrusts  his  sword  to  the  hilt  down  his 
throat ;  and  a  lady,  who  wears  a  coronet,  with  bare  breasts, 
etc.,  in  the  style  of  Charles  II. 's  Beauties — a  wound  on 
whose  bosom,  and  an  accidental  mutilation  of  the  hand,  are 
said  to  be  the  work  of  the  Worm.  A  real  good  Andrea 
Ferrara,  inscribed  on  the  blade  1521,  notwithstanding  the 
date,  has  also  been  pressed  into  the  service,  and  is  said  to 
be  the  identical  weapon  by  which  the  Worm  perished. 

The  scene  of  the  Worm's  haunts,  and  the  combat,  is  at 
a  considerable  distance  from  the  Castle  ;  in  fact,  about  a 
mile  and  a  half  from  the  old  Lambton  Hall,  where  the 
Lambtons  then  dwelt.  It  is  on  the  north  bank  of  the 
Wear,  in  the  estate  of  North  Biddick,  and  now  in  quite  a 
populous  location.  The  Worm  Hill  is  a  conspicuous 
conical  mound  of  considerable  size,  but  having  all  the  ap- 
pearance of  an  ancient  barrow,  or  other  artificial  tumulus. 
It  stands  in  a  meadow  just  at  the  backs  of  some  houses,  is 
perfectly  green  with  grass ;  and  now,  whatever  it  might  do 
formerly,  bears  not  the  slightest  trace  of  the  place  where 
the  worm  coiled  itself.  It  is  about  eighty  yards  from  the 
river,  and  the  well  lay  twenty-six  yards  from  the  hill. 
Half  a  century  ago  the  Worm  Well  was  in  repute  as  a 
Wishing  Well,  and  was  one  of  the  scenes  dedicated  to  the 
usual  festivities  and  superstitions  of  Midsummer  Eve. 


ARANJUEZ 

EDMONDO  DE  AMICIS 

IN  leaving  Madrid  by  the  southern  route,  you  traverse 
an  uninhabited  country  that  recalls  the  poorest  prov- 
inces of  Aragon  and  old  Castile,  just  as  happened  on  your 
arrival  by  the  northern.  These  are  vast,  yellowish,  and 
dried-up  plains;  you  would  say  that  if  you  beat  upon  it, 
the  earth  would  resound  like  an  empty  box,  or  crumble 
away  like  the  crust  of  a  burnt  tart ;  occasionally  you  see 
miserable  villages,  of  the  same  colour  as  the  land,  which 
look  as  if  they  would  ignite  like  a  heap  of  dry  leaves,  if 
any  one  were  to  bring  a  match  to  the  roof  of  one  of  the 
houses.  After  an  hour's  travel,  my  shoulder  sought  the 
side  of  the  carriage,  my  elbow  a  leaning-place,  and  I  fell 
into  a  profound  sleep,  like  a  member  of  Leopardi's  Ateneo 
d'  Ascoltazione. 

I  looked  around  me :  the  vast  deserted  plain  was  trans- 
formed as  if  by  enchantment  into  an  immense  garden  full 
of  delightful  groves,  crossed  in  every  direction  by  great 
avenues,  dotted  with  little  country  houses  and  rustic  cabins 
covered  with  vines  ;  and,  here  and  there  were  tossing  foun- 
tains, shady  nooks,  flowery  meadows,  vineyards,  little  foot- 
paths, and  a  greenness,  a  freshness,  an  odour  of  spring,  a 
breath  of  joy  and  delight  that  wafted  your  soul  to  paradise. 
We  had  arrived  at  Aranjuez.  I  left  the  train,  threaded  my 


^ 


ARANJUEZ 

way  down  a  beautiful  avenue  shaded  by  two  rows  of  gigan- 
tic trees,  and  in  an  instant  found  myself  opposite  the  royal 
palace. 

Castelar,  the  minister,  wrote  recently  in  his  memorandum 
that  the  fall  of  the  ancient  Spanish  monarchy  was  foreseen 
on  the  day  that  a  herd  of  populace  with  abuse  on  their  lips 
and  anger  in  their  hearts,  invaded  the  palace  of  Aranjuez 
to  disturb  the  tranquil  majesty  of  its  sovereigns.  I  was 
precisely  on  that  spot,  where,  on  March  17,  1808,  occurred 
the  events  that  formed  the  prologue  to  the  national  war  and 
the  first  word  of  the  sentence,  as  it  were,  that  condemned 
the  ancient  monarchy  to  death.  I  immediately  looked  for 
the  windows  of  the  apartment  of  the  Prince  of  Peace  ;  I 
pictured  him,  fleeing  from  hall  to  hall,  pale  and  dishevelled, 
hunting  for  a  hiding-place,  amidst  the  echoing  cries  of  the 
multitude  that  mounted  the  stairway ;  I  saw  poor  Charles 
IV.  place  the  crown  on  the  head  of  the  Prince  of  the 
Asturias  with  trembling  hands;  all  the  scenes  of  that 
terrible  drama  passed  before  my  eyes ;  and  the  deep  silence 
of  this  place  and  the  sight  of  that  shut  and  abandoned 
palace  chilled  me  to  the  heart. 

The  palace  is  built  like  a  castle;  it  is  of  brick  with 
corners  of  white  marble,  and  covered  with  a  slate  roof. 
Every  one  knows  that  Philip  II.  had  it  built  by  the  cele- 
brated architect  Herrera,  and  that  nearly  all  his  successors 
embellished  it,  and  lived  there  during  the  summer  season. 
I  entered  :  the  interior  is  splendid  ;  there  is  a  resplendent 
hall  for  the  reception  of  ambassadors,  a  beautiful  Chinese 
cabinet  of  Charles  III.,  a  superb  dressing-room  of  Isabella 


ARANJUEZ 

II.,  and  a  profusion  of  precious  ornaments.  But  all  the 
riches  of  the  palace  are  not  worth  the  view  of  the  gardens. 
Expectations  are  not  deceived.  The  gardens  of  Aranjuez 
(Aranjuez  is  the  name  of  the  little  town  situate  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  palace)  seem  to  have  been  laid  out  for  the 
family  of  Titan  Kings,  to  whom  the  parks  and  gardens  of 
our  Kings  would  have  appeared  like  terrace  parterres  and 
sheep-folds.  Avenues,  extending  as  far  as  the  eye  can 
reach  and  bordered  by  trees  of  an  inordinate  height  uniting 
their  branches  and  leaning  towards  us  as  if  bent  by  two 
contrary  winds,  in  every  direction  cross  a  forest  the  bound- 
aries of  which  one  cannot  see ;  and  through  this  forest  the 
wide  and  rapid  Tagus  describes  a  majestic  curve,  forming 
here  and  there  cascades  and  basins  ;  a  luxuriant  and  flour- 
ishing vegetation  abounds  amid  a  labyrinth  of  little 
avenues  and  cross-roads ;  everywhere  is  seen  the  whiteness 
of  statues,  fountains,  columns  and  high  jets  of  water  that 
fall  in  sheets  and  rain  and  spray  on  all  the  flowers  known 
to  Europe  and  America;  and  to  the  majestic  sound  of  the 
cascade  of  the  Tagus  is  joined  the  song  of  innumerable 
nightingales  that  pour  their  trills  into  the  mysterious  shade 
of  the  lonely  paths.  Beyond  the  gardens,  rises  a  little 
marble  palace,  modest  in  appearance,  which  contains  all  the 
marvels  of  the  most  magnificent  royal  residence,  and  where 
one  still  breathes  the  atmosphere  of  the  life  of  the  Kings  of 
Spain.  .  Here  are  the  little  secret  chambers  the  ceilings  of 
which  may  be  touched  by  the  hand,  the  billiard-room  of 
Charles  IV.,  cushions  embroidered  by  the  hands  of  queens, 
musical  clocks  that  amused  the  idle  children,  little  stairways, 


ARANJUEZ  3! 3 

tiny  windows  that  preserve  a  hundred  little  traditions  of  the 
caprice  of  princes  :  and,  finally,  the  richest  toilet-room  in 
Europe,  due  to  a  whim  of  Charles  IV.,  and  which  contains 
in  itself  so  much  wealth  that  one  could  draw  enough  from 
it  to  build  a  palace,  without  depriving  it  of  the  noble  pre- 
eminence it  boasts  above  all  rooms  appropriated  to  the 
same  use. 

Beyond  this  palace,  and  around  the  woodlands,  extend 
vineyards,  olive-trees,  plantations  of  fruit-trees  and  smiling 
meadows.  It  is  a  veritable  oasis  surrounded  by  a  desert 
which  Philip  II.  chose  in  a  day  of  good  humour,  as  if  to  al- 
leviate the  black  melancholy  of  the  Escurial  with  a  gay  pic- 
ture. On  returning  from  the  little  marble  palace  to  the  great 
palace  of  the  Escurial  down  these  long  avenues,  beneath  the 
shade  of  these  large  trees,  in  this  profound  peace  of  the  forest, 
I  thought  of  the  splendid  pageants  of  ladies  and  cavaliers 
that  formerly  followed  the  steps  of  the  gay  young 
monarchs  and  capricious  and  unrestrained  queens  to  the 
sound  of  love-songs  and  hymns,  celebrating  the  grandeur 
and  the  glory  of  unvanquished  Spain,  and  I  repeated  sadly 
with  the  poet  of  Recanati : 

"...     All  is  peace  and  silence, 

And  one  speaks  no  longer  of  them.     .     .     ." 


GLAMIS  CASTLE 

LADY  GLAMIS 

TO  the  lover  of  Shakespeare,  the  name  of  Glammis 
(as  it  was  sometimes  spelt)  will  recall  the  act  of 
treachery  and  murder  which  tradition  gives  as  having  taken 
place  there,  when  King  Duncan  was  done  to  death  by  the 
hand  or  at  the  instigation  of  the  ambitious  and  unscrupu- 
lous Lady  Macbeth ;  although  there  is  no  possibility  of 
proving  or  testing  the  truth  as  to  the  details  or  locality  of 
the  tragedy. 

To  the  antiquarian,  the  Castle  must  be  of  immense  in- 
terest on  account  of  the  great  age  of  the  central  portion, 
or  keep,  which  is  known  to  have  been  standing  in  1016,  but 
"  whose  birth  tradition  notes  not  "  ;  while  to  the  romantic 
and  superstitious  it  is  associated  as  a  place  where  ghosts  and 
spirits  moving  silently  down  winding  stairs  and  dark  pas- 
sages are  wont  to  make  night  fearsome.  This  feeling  of 
eeriness  is  not  confined  to  the  naturally  nervous,  for  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  who  spent  a  night  at  Glamis  in  1794, 
writes : 

"After  a  very  hospitable  reception,  ...  I  was 
conducted  to  my  apartment  in  a  distant  part  of  the  build- 
ing. I  must  own  that  when  I  heard  door  after  door  shut, 
after  my  conductor  had  retired,  I  began  to  consider  myself 
too  far  from  the  living  and  somewhat  too  near  the  dead." 


GLAMIS  CASTLE  315 

Additional  interest  attaches  to  this  castle  from  the  fact 
that  its  venerable  walls  enshroud  a  mysterious  something, 
which  has  for  centuries  baffled  the  curiosity  and  investiga- 
tions of  all  unauthorized  persons ;  this  secret  is  known 
only  to  three  people — the  Earl  of  the  time  being,  his  eldest 
son,  and  one  other  individual,  whom  they  think  worthy  of 
their  confidence. 

Most  people  have  theories  upon  this  subject,  and  many 
ridiculous  stories  are  told ;  but  so  carefully  has  the  mys- 
tery been  guarded,  that  no  suspicion  of  the  truth  has  ever 
come  to  light.  One  version  of  the  story  is  as  follows : 
Several  centuries  ago  the  Lord  Glamis  of  the  time  was  en- 
tertaining the  head  of  another  noble  family  then  resident  in 
Angus ;  and  in  the  course  of  the  evening  they  commenced 
to  play  cards.  It  was  Saturday  night,  and  so  intent  were 
they  on  wagering  lands  and  money  on  the  issue  of  the 
game,  that  they  did  not  recognize  the  fact  that  Sunday 
morning  was  approaching  until  an  old  retainer  ventured  to 
remind  them  of  the  hour.  Whereupon  one  of  the  gam- 
blers swore  a  great  oath,  with  the  tacit  approval  of  the 
other,  that  they  did  not  care  what  day  it  might  be,  but 
they  would  finish  their  game  at  any  cost,  even  if  they 
went  on  playing  till  Doomsday  !  It  had  struck  midnight 
ere  he  had  finished  his  sentence,  when  there  suddenly  ap- 
peared a  stranger  dressed  in  black,  who  politely  informed 
their  lordships  that  he  would  take  them  at  their  word,  and 
vanished. 

The  story  goes  on  to  aver  that  annually  on  that  night 
three  noblemen,  or  their  spirits,  meet  and  play  cards  in  the 


316 


GLAMIS  CASTLE 


secret  room  of  the  Castle,  and  that  this  will  go  on  till 
Doomsday.  In  corroboration  of  this  story,  it  is  said  that 
on  a  certain  night  in  the  autumn  of  every  year,  loud 
noises  are  heard,  and  some  of  the  casements  of  the  Castle 
are  blown  open. 

Glamis  Castle  stands  in  the  centre  of  the  vale  of  Strath- 
more,  in  a  picturesque  and  well-wooded  part  of  Forfarshire ; 
the  heather-clad  sides  of  the  Sidlaws,  which  divide  Strath- 
more  from  the  sea,  rising  to  the  south,  while  away  to  the 
north  tower  the  Grampians,  which  form  a  magnificent 
background  to  the  ancient  pile  of  buildings,  whose  turrets 
rise  some  hundred  and  fifteen  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
ground. 

The  poet,  Gray,  in  a  letter,  describes  the  exterior  of  the 
castle  in  the  following  words : 

"  The  house,  from  the  height  of  it,  the  greatness  of  its 
mass,  the  many  towers  atop,  and  the  spread  of  its  wings, 
has  really  a  very  singular  and  striking  appearance,  like  noth- 
ing I  ever  saw." 

The  oldest  portions  of  the  Castle  are  formed  of  huge 
irregular  blocks  of  old  red  sandstone,  which  time  and 
weather  have  mellowed  into  a  beautiful  grey,  pink  colour. 
The  walls  in  many  places  are  sixteen  feet  thick,  which  in 
the  olden  days  had  the  essential  recommendation  of  great 
security,  and  also  of  allowing  space  for  secret  rooms  and 
passages  as  means  of  escape  in  times  of  peril  -,  and  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  two  secret  staircases  have  been  discovered 
within  the  last  five-and-twenty  years,  and  possibly  there  are 
others  which  still  remain  forgotten  and  unused. 


GLAMIS  CASTLE  317 

The  narrow  windows  appear  at  irregular  heights  and  dis- 
tances in  the  central  building  or  keep  and  left  wing  (the 
right  wing  having  been  burnt  down  and  rebuilt  early  in 
1800,  is  not  so  interesting),  but  the  great  staircase  added  by 
Patrick,  Lord  Glamis,  in  1605,  is  very  fine,  occupying  a 
circular  tower,  the  space  for  which  has  been  partly  dug 
out  of  the  old  walls  of  the  keep,  and  rises  to  the  third 
story.  This  staircase  (the  designing  for  which  has  been 
attributed  to  Inigo  Jones)  is  spiral,  with  a  hollow  newel  in 
the  centre,  and  is  composed  of  stone  to  the  summit.  It 
consists  of  143  steps,  6  feet  10  inches  in  width,  each  of 
one  stone. 

The  staircases,  which  were  in  use  before  1600,  are  very 
narrow,  dark,  and  some  of  them  winding,  the  steps  steep 
and  irregular  in  height,  worn  into  hollows  by  the  many  feet 
that  for  centuries  climbed  them.  Up  two  flights  of  these 
dimly  lit,  uneven  stairs,  the  wounded  king,  Malcolm  II., 
after  having  been  treacherously  attacked  and  mortally 
wounded  by  Kenneth  V.  and  his  adherents  on  the  Hunter's 
Hill,  about  a  mile  from  the  Castle,  was  carried  by  his  fol- 
lowers to  die  in  the  chamber  that  still  bears  the  name  of 
King  Malcolm's  room.  This  murder  of  King  Malcolm  is 
the  first  authentic  event  mentioned  by  the  chroniclers  in 
connection  with  Glamis. 

In  the  time  of  King  Malcolm,  Glamis  was  a  royal  resi- 
dence, and  remained  so  till  1372,  when  Sir  John  Lyon,  "a 
young  man  of  very  good  parts  and  qualities,  and  of  a  very 
graceful  and  comely  person,  and  a  great  favourite  with  the 
king"  (Robert  II.),  was  made  Lord  High  Chamberlain  of 


GLAMIS  CASTLE 

Scotland.  At  that  time  the  king's  daughter,  the  Princess 
Jean,  fell  in  love  with  this  young  knight,  and  was  given 
him  in  marriage  together  with  the  lands  of  the  thanedom 
of  Glamis,  "pro  laudabili  et  fideli  servitio  et  continuis  labor  i- 
bus"  as  the  charter  bears  witness,  March  18,  1372.  Ten 
years  later  Sir  John  fell  in  a  duel  with  Sir  James  Lindsay 
of  Crawford,  and  was  buried  at  Scone  among  the  kings  of 
Scotland.  He  left  one  son,  from  whom  the  present  family 
of  Lyon  have  descended  without  a  break  from  father  to  son 
to  the  present  day.  Fifty  years  later,  Sir  Patrick  Lyon  (Sir 
John's  grandson),  who  was  one  of  the  hostages  to  the  Eng- 
lish for  the  ransom  of  James  I.  from  1424  to  1427,  was 
created  Baron  Glamis,  and  appointed  Master  of  the  House- 
hold to  the  King  of  Scotland.  For  the  next  hundred  years 
nothing  of  interest  occurred  till  John,  sixth  Lord  Glamis, 
married  the  beautiful  Janet  Douglas,  granddaughter  of  the 
great  Earl  of  Angus  (Bell-the-Cat),  and  died  in  1528. 
Lady  Glamis  married,  secondly,  Archibald  Campbell,  of 
Kepneith,  whose  relative,  another  Campbell,  fell  in  love 
with  her.  Finding,  however,  that  his  addresses  were  but 
ill  received  by  this  lady,  who  was  as  good  as  she  was  lovely, 
his  love  turned  to  hate,  and  he  revenged  himself  by  inform- 
ing the  authorities  that  Lady  Glamis,  her  son,  Lord  Glamis, 
and  John  Lyon,  his  relative,  were  conspiring  against  the 
life  of  the  king,  James  V.,  by  poison  or  witchcraft.  They 
were  tried  for  high  treason,  and  wrongfully  convicted ! 
Lady  Glamis  and  her  young  son  were  both  sentenced  to  be 
burned,  and  the  estate  of  Glamis  was  forfeited  and  annexed 
to  the  Crown  by  Act  of  Parliament,  December  3d,  1540. 


GLAMIS  CASTLE 


3*9 


However,  these  brutal  judges,  on  account  of  the  extreme 
youth  of  Lord  Glamis,  feared  to  bring  him  to  execution,  so 
the  boy  was  kept  in  prison,  with  the  death  sentence  hang- 
ing over  him,  while  the  beautiful  Lady  Glamis  was  dragged 
forth  and  burned  at  the  stake  on  the  Castle  Hill  of  Edin- 
burgh, July  iyth,  1537.  Those  were  days  when  acts  of 
violence  and  cruelty  were  regarded  with  an  indifference  that 
we  cannot  now  realize,  although  when  she  stood  up  in  her 
beauty  to  undergo  this  fearful  sentence,  it  is  recorded  that 
all  heads  were  bowed  in  sorrowful  sympathy.  When  this 
infamous  execution  was  accomplished,  remorse  seems  to 
have  come  over  Campbell,  who  was  visited  by  visions  of 
his  victim  looking  at  him  with  sad,  reproachful  eyes. 
When,  some  years  later,  his  death  was  drawing  nigh,  he 
confessed  that  his  evidence  at  the  trial  was  altogether  false. 
Lord  Glamis  was  therefore  released  from  prison,  and  his 
estates  and  honours  restored. 

To  return  to  the  Castle.  The  exterior  is  much  orna- 
mented with  ancient  armorial  bearings  in  carved  stone, 
while  a  round  niche  over  the  front  door  contains  a  bust  of 
Earl  Patrick.  The  principal  entrance  is  a  striking  feature. 
The  doorway  is  small  and  low,  and  a  stout  iron-clenched 
oaken  door,  thickly  studded  with  nails,  is  guarded  on  the 
inside  by  a  heavily  grated  iron  gate,  which  opens  right  on  to 
the  staircase.  A  flight  of  steps  to  the  right  of  the  entrance 
leads  down  to  the  dungeons,  vaults,  and  the  old  well  (now 
filled  up)  which  supplied  the  inmates  with  water  in  times  of 
siege ;  while  another  stair  to  the  left  leads  up  to  the  Re- 
tainers' Hall  (or  Crypt  as  it  is  now  called),  low,  and  fifty 


320 


GLAMIS  CASTLE 


feet  in  length,  with  walls  and  arched  roof  entirely  composed 
of  stone.  Of  the  seven  windows,  which  are  small,  four  or 
five  are  cut  out  of  the  thickness  of  the  walls,  and  make  re- 
cesses just  large  enough  to  form  small  rooms,  which  might 
have  been  used  as  sleeping  chambers  in  old  days.  Lay 
figures,  clad  in  complete  armour,  stand  in  the  recesses, 
which,  especially  in  the  dusk,  give  an  eerie  effect  to  this 
part  of  the  Castle.  It  is  said  that  a  ghostly  man  in  armour 
walks  this  floor  at  night — possibly  the  original  of  one  of 
those  armoured  figures  standing  silently  in  the  crypt  year 
after  year,  who  may,  perchance,  have  ended  his  life  in  the 
dungeon  that  lies  exactly  underneath. 


CHATEAU  DE   CHINON 

J.   J.   BOURRASSEE 

TO  the  traveller  who  arrives  at  Chinon  from  the  south 
or  west,  the  aspect  of  the  old  castle  is  imposing. 
What  an  effect  it  must  have  produced  at  the  period 
of  its  full  splendour  !  Originally  it  was  a  fortress  situated 
on  an  eminence  commanding  the  course  of  the  Vienne  and 
the  fertile  plain  of  Veron.  It  might  be  regarded  as  the  key 
of  lower  Touraine.  Therefore  we  see  the  Romans,  the 
Visigoths,  the  Franks,  and,  later,  the  Counts  of  Anjou  and 
Touraine,  the  Kings  of  England  and  France  sparing  no 
efforts  to  secure  its  possession.  In  462,  Frederic,  brother 
of  Theodoric  King  of  the  Visigoths,  having  advanced  as 
far  as  the  banks  of  the  Loire,  seized  the  Castle  of  Chinon  : 
up  to  that  time  the  Romans  had  occupied  it,  and  by  its 
favourable  position  it  had  become  the  last  citadel  of  their 
power  in  this  part  of  Gaul.  ^Egidius  Afranius,  the  Roman 
governor  of  Gaul,  hastened  into  Touraine  to  recover 
Chinon  ;  but  he  could  not  do  it  by  force  of  arms.  Des- 
pairing of  carrying  the  place  of  assault,  the  Romans  block- 
aded it.  The  defenders  were  at  the  last  extremity  from 
lack  of  water  when  a  violent  storm  poured  abundant  rain 
within  the  ramparts.  The  Romans  raised  the  siege  and 
the  Visigoths  remained  masters  of  the  castle  until  the  defeat 
of  Alaric  in  the  plains  of  Vouille.  The  conquering  Clovis 


322  CHATEAU  DE  CHINON 

understood  the  importance  of  this  military  post  and  made 
it  one  of  the  ramparts  of  his  kingdom. 

The  Prankish  princes  installed  themselves  there  so  well 
that  no  foe  ever  thought  of  disputing  its  possession  with 
them.  The  Carlovingians  were  still  its  masters  when 
feudalism  transformed  to  the  profit  of  the  great  barons  the 
precarious  title  that  they  held  by  the  confidence  of  the 
sovereign.  Thibault  the  Trickster  had  Touraine  as  his 
share  in  this  vast  parcelling  out  of  France.  He  had  the 
Castle  of  Chinon  repaired  and  often  resided  there,  as  in  an 
impregnable  fortress.  Thibault's  lot  in  the  partition  of  the 
territory  was  not  in  the  least  an  agreeable  one,  for  he  had  to 
defend  it  against  the  envy  of  his  neighbors.  Touraine  for 
about  a  century  was  a  prey  over  which  rival  powers  fought. 
In  the  end  it  remained  with  the  strongest.  The  Count  of 
Anjou  became  completely  master  of  it  after  the  battle  of 
Nouy,  fought  on  the  heights  of  Montlouis  in  1044.  Even 
in  the  bosom  of  this  powerful  house  there  were  quarrels 
over  the  possession  of  the  Castle  of  Chinon.  An  unequal 
partition  between  Geoffrey  le  Barbu  and  Foulques  le 
Rechin  led  to  war  between  those  two  brothers.  Abandoned 
and  betrayed  by  his  followers,  Geoffroy  was  made  prisoner 
and  cast  into  the  cells  of  the  Castle  of  Chinon,  where  he 
remained  closely  immured  for  the  space  of  eighteen  years 
with  such  rigour  that  he  almost  lost  his  reason.  Nothing 
less  than  the  intervention  of  Pope  Urban  II.  in  1096  was 
required  to  have  him  set  at  liberty. 

Thanks  to  a  marriage,  the  house  of  Anjou  mounted  the 
throne  of  England  and  Chinon  became  a  royal  possession. 


CHATEAU  DE  CHINON  323 

Henry  Plantagenet,  great-grandson  of  Foulques  le  Rechin, 
brings  this  fine  residence  into  new  relief.  Henry  II.  made 
it  his  favourite  manor.  He  made  it  the  seat  of  a  royally 
privileged  domain,  comprising  Cande,  Champigny,  La 
Haye,  L'lle  Bouchard,  Saint  Epain,  Sainte  Maure,  Azay 
le  Rideau  and  Bourgueil.  Henry  II.  added  to  the  Castle 
of  Chinon  a  fortress  distinct  from  the  other  buildings,  with 
its  own  ramparts,  moats,  gates,  drawbridges,  buildings  for 
the  accommodation  of  the  King,  his  court  and  his  archers, 
and  its  church  dedicated  to  St.  George.  From  his  donjon 
keep,  the  King  of  England  ceaselessly  laboured  to  increase 
his  territory  and  his  influence  on  the  Continent.  By 
means  of  his  marriage  with  Eleanor  of  Guienne,  repudiated 
by  King  Louis  VII.,  he  had  become  more  powerful  than 
his  sovereign.  It  seems  as  if  nothing  could  stay  the  course 
of  such  success,  were  it  not  for  discord  in  his  own  family. 
At  war  with  Philip  Augustus,  and  with  his  own  son  the  fa- 
mous Richard  Cosur  de  Lion,  the  King  of  England  retired 
to  Chinon.  Necessity  compelled  him  to  sign  with  the 
King  of  France  the  humiliating  peace  of  Azay  sur  Cher. 
"  Shame  !  "  he  cried,  "  shame  to  the  vanquished  king  ! 
Cursed  be  the  day  I  was  born  !  Curses  upon  my  two 
sons ! "  This  fit  of  fury  sent  him  to  the  tomb,  July  6, 
1189.  He  was  carried  without  pomp  to  the  Abbey  of 
Fontevrault,  near  Chinon,  where  he  had  desired  to  be  buried. 
Ten  years  later,  another  train  took  the  same  road :  it  was 
that  of  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion.  Being  mortally  wounded 
at  the  siege  of  Chaluz,  that  prince  caused  himself  to  be 
taken  to  Chinon,  where  he  quickly  succumbed  in  cruel 


CHATEAU  DE  CHINON 

agony.  He  was  buried  beside  Henry  II.  in  the  Abbey  of 
p'ontevrault,  that  celebrated  house  that  has  had  as  abbess 
fourteen  princesses  of  the  royal  blood,  and  that  had  de- 
served the  name  of  King's  Cemetery.  In  an  obscure  corner 
are  still  to  be  seen  the  admirable  statues  of  the  counts  of 
Anjou,  masterpieces  of  the  statuary  at  the  close  of  the 
Twelfth  Century. 

At  that  time,  nothing  presaged  that  the  Castle  of  Chinon 
was  to  leave  the  hands  of  the  Kings  of  England,  when  sud- 
denly a  protracted  cry  of  horror  and  indignation  resounded 
through  the  world.  John  Lackland  had  just  got  rid  of  his 
nephew,  Arthur  of  Brittany,  by  a  cowardly  murder  at 
Rouen.  Philip  Augustus  summoned  the  murderer  to  ap- 
pear before  the  court  of  the  peers  of  the  realm.  After 
several  adjournments  regularly  notified,  the  criminal,  not 
having  presented  himself,  was  condemned  to  lose  the  fiefs 
held  from  the  French  crown.  The  sentence  was  easy  to 
deliver,  but  not  so  easy  to  execute.  The  King  of  France 
hastened  to  Touraine  at  the  head  of  an  army  and  took 
possession  of  Tours,  Loches  and  Chinon. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  Castle  of  Chinon  was  val- 
iantly defended  ;  it  was  carried  by  assault  after  an  obstinate 
struggle  in  1205.  Philip  Augustus  gave  it  a  good  garrison. 
After  that  day,  the  English  never  set  foot  in  it ;  and  when 
during  our  intestine  discord  they  profited  by  treason  and 
dominated  many  of  our  provinces,  the  Castle  of  Chinon 
was  the  last  refuge  of  the  monarchy.  From  there  were 
struck  all  the  blows  that  gave  France  back  her  in- 
dependence. 


CHATEAU  DE  CHINON 


325 


Feudalism  had  greatly  lessened  the  royal  power.  Noble 
efforts  had  been  made  to  restore  the  authority  that  the  king 
ought  never  to  have  lost.  These  attempts  had  produced 
memorable  results ;  but  the  great  feudatories  were  discon- 
tented. They  wanted  to  profit  by  the  minority  of  Louis 
IX.  and  the  regency  of  a  woman  to  recover  the  power  that 
had  escaped  them.  Events  called  St.  Louis  and  Queen 
Blanche  to  Chinon.  The  young  king  held  a  parliament  of 
twenty  days  at  the  castle  gates.  The  rebel  lords  refused  to 
attend,  but  their  plans  were  rendered  abortive,  thanks  to 
the  activity  of  Blanche  of  Castile. 

Philip  Augustus  had  partly  rebuilt  the  Castle  of  Chinon  : 
the  Thirteenth  Century  work  is  easily  visible  amid  the  later 
constructions.  Under  the  reign  of  St.  Louis,  further  works 
to  render  this  fortress  as  a  whole  more  formidable  were 
executed. 

In  1308,  a  great  bustle  was  manifest  in  the  Castle  and 
town  of  Chinon  :  Jacques  de  Molay,  Grand  Master  of  the 
Order  of  the  Templars,  Hughes  de  Peraldo,  Visitor  of 
France,  and  the  Commanders  of  Cyprus,  Aquitaine  and 
Normandy  had  just  been  brought  in.  Other  Knights  of 
the  same  Order  had  already  been  confined  there.  They 
were  all  to  be  taken  to  Poictiers  where  were  Pope  Clement 
V.  and  Philippe  le  Bel,  King  of  France  ;  but  several  of 
them  had  fallen  ill  on  the  road,  so  the  sovereign  pontiff 
deputed  three  cardinals  to  proceed  with  the  investigation  at 
Chinon.  Every  one  knows  the  result  of  these  grave  pro- 
ceedings :  the  Order  of  the  Templars  was  suppressed,  and 
those  who  were  prisoners  at  Chinon  only  left  their  cells  to 


326  CHATEAU  DE  CHINON 

go  to  the  stake  at  Paris.  They  had  confessed  their  crimes 
in  the  question  to  which  they  had  been  put ;  but  most  of 
them  retracted  amidst  the  flames.  This  frightful  execution 
took  place  in  1313. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  Fourteenth  Century,  Charles 
VI.  ceded  the  duchy  of  Touraine  and  the  county  of 
Chinon  to  his  brother  Louis,  Duke  of  Orleans,  who  was 
afterwards  assassinated  by  order  of  John  the  Fearless, 
Duke  of  Burgundy.  This  period  recalls  the  most  mourn- 
ful memories  of  our  history.  Our  land  was  ravaged  by 
bands  of  English,  skilful  to  profit  by  our  dissensions.  At 
last  the  hour  of  deliverance  has  arrived.  France  will  now 
see  more  prosperous  days ;  and  Charles  VII.,  the  Victorious, 
will  stretch  his  sceptre  over  the  territory  formerly  subject 
to  his  ancestor. 

Charles  VII.  established  his  court  at  Chinon.  Joan  of 
Arc  came  to  see  him  there  and  to  inaugurate  her  extraordi- 
nary mission  beneath  the  castle  arches.  Everybody  knows 
the  details  of  the  heroine's  arrival  at  Chinon :  how  she 
recognized  the  disguised  king  in  the  midst  of  his  courtiers, 
revealed  a  secret  known  only  to  himself  and  God,  showed 
herself  full  of  confidence  in  the  cause  that  she  was  to  make 
triumphant  and  finally  succeeded,  in  inspiring  the  hearts  of 
others  with  the  enthusiasm  that  overflowed  her  own. 

Thus  the  first  public  deeds  of  the  providential  mission  of 
Joan  of  Arc  are  connected  with  Chinon.  At  this  moment, 
Charles  VII.  had  by  his  side  another  woman  of  generous 
heart  and  strong  spirit :  this  was  the  queen,  Marie  of 
Anjou.  Her  influence  was  greater  than  historians  have 


CHATEAU  DE  CHINON  327 

recognized  ;  it  was  much  more  salutary  and  efficacious  than 
that  of  Agnes  Sorel.  When  the  latter  appeared  at  Chinon 
for  the  first  time  before  the  eyes  of  Charles  VII.,  it  was 
already  six  months  since  Joan  of  Arc  had  gone  to  the  stake 
at  Rouen.  Is  not  that  enough  for  us  to  say  that  France 
had  already  been  saved  and  that  the  advice  and  remon- 
strances of  Agnes  Sorel  came  too  late  ? 

However  that  may  be,  the  presence  of  Agnes  Sorel  at 
the  court  of  Chinon  was  insupportable  to  the  Dauphin, 
afterwards  Louis  XI.  He  even  made  it  a  pretext  for  a 
conspiracy  against  his  father.  These  designs  of  an  unnat- 
ural son  did  not  succeed,  but  they  poisoned  the  King's  last 
years. 

In  1461,  Charles  VII.  died  at  Mehun  sur  Yevre,  and 
Louis  XI.  succeeded  to  the  throne.  Louis  XI.  took  up  his 
abode  by  preference  at  the  Castle  of  Plessis-lez-Tours :  he 
often  came  to  Chinon.  It  was  in  the  environs  of  that 
town,  at  the  Castle  of  Forges,  that  he  felt  the  first  attack 
of  the  malady  that  carried  him  off.  Philippe  de  Commines, 
Seigneur  d'Argenton,  governor  of  the  Castle  of  Chinon, 
informs  us  how  this  accident,  which  was  nothing  less  than 
an  attack  of  apoplexy,  came  upon  him. 

In  the  very  year  of  the  death  of  Louis  XI.  a  famous 
personage  in  buffoon  literature  was  born  at  Chinon. 
Francois  Rabelais  is  the  most  cynical  of  writers,  and  if,  as 
some  people  assert,  he  tried  to  hide  his  philosophy  beneath 
the  masque  of  folly,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  he  suc- 
ceeded. 

After  the  reign  of  Louis  XL,  the  Castle  of  Chinon  was 


328  CHATEAU  DE  CHINON 

very  little  frequented  by  the  court.  Catherine  de'Medici 
was  there  in  1560,  and  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  afterwards 
Henri  III.  appeared  there  at  the  head  of  his  army,  march- 
ing against  the  Reformers,  who  were  to  be  so  rudely  chas- 
tised in  the  plains  of  Montoncour. 

In  1629,  the  Princess  de  Conti,  who  possessed  Chinon 
by  virtue  of  an  exchange  of  property  with  Henry  of 
Lorraine,  Duke  of  Chevreuse,  sold  the  castle  with  all  its 
dependencies  to  Cardinal  Richelieu.  The  sale  gave  the 
signal,  so  to  speak,  for  the  demolition  of  the  royal  castle  of 
the  Plantagenets  and  French  monarchs.  When  the  Revo- 
lution, that  piled  up  so  many  ruins  arrived,  it  found  noth- 
ing more  to  do  here. 

The  remains  of  the  old  manor  are  still  gigantic.  Those 
high  walls,  dismantled  curtains,  crenellated  masonry,  and 
discrowned  turrets  harbour  glorious  memories  ;  but  it  is  not 
always  easy  to  distinguish  what  belongs  to  each  century,  or 
clearly  to  discern  the  work  of  the  Romans  or  the  Visigoths, 
of  Thibault  the  Trickster,  Henry  II.,  Philip  Augustus, 
Charles  VII.,  or  Louis  XI.  The  greater  part  of  these 
ruins,  however,  is  characteristic  of  the  Fifteenth  Century. 
Scarcely  anything  remains  intact  except  the  belfry  tower, 
now  called  the  Tour  de  t ' Horloge,  twenty  to  twenty-five 
meters  in  height.  These  picturesque  ruins  belong  to  the 
town  of  Chinon,  having  been  left  to  it  by  the  house  of 
Richelieu. 


THE  SUMMER  PALACE 

MAURICE   PALEOLOGUE 

THE  last  time  that  I  saw  the  Imperial  Palace  of  Pekin 
was  on  a  morning  in  the  last  of  April.  The  air 
was  fresh  and  limpid,  and  the  vault  of  heaven  seemed  to 
have  lifted  itself  to  a  prodigious  height.  It  was  not  that 
somewhat  misty  atmosphere  of  spring  in  France,  which 
seems  impregnated  with  damp  and  vegetable  odours,  and 
wb'ch  bathes  the  unstable  outlines  of  objects ;  neither  was 
it  that  tenuous  light  of  those  mornings  in  the  East  that 
overspreads  the  distances,  envelops  objects,  and  defines 
their  planes.  It  was  a  very  dry  air,  for  five  months  had 
passed  since  a  drop  of  rain  had  fallen,  with  an  almost 
brutal  clearness  which  seemed  to  bring  the  horizon  nearer 
and  which  harshly  exhibited  the  forms  of  the  buildings  and 
the  lines  of  the  landscape. 

I  went  out  very  early,  and  the  windings  of  my  course 
took  me  to  the  Imperial  City,  one  of  the  three  cities  that 
compose  the  capital  of  the  Middle  Kingdom.  The  streets 
differed  in  appearance  from  those  of  the  quarters  I  had  just 
traversed,  the  shops  became  rarer,  the  roadways  wider,  and 
the  temples  and  palaces  closer  together.  But  at  this  early 
hour  there  was  still  greater  animation  here,  and  a  crowd  of 
horsemen,  pedestrians,  and  carriages  made  passage  difficult. 

I  was  about  to  turn   in  order  to  return  to  the  French 


33° 


THE  SUMMER  PALACE 


Legation,  when  a  cart,  peculiarly  constructed  upon  two 
wheels  placed  almost  at  the  back,  and  escorted  by  two 
horsemen,  made  my*  horse  stand  aside ;  it  was  a  Tartar 
carriage  from  the  court  stables :  a  black  mule  harnessed 
with  yellow  leather  and  led  by  a  groom,  also  in  yellow  liv- 
ery, drew  it  along  with  great  strides. 

In  front,  visible  between  the  open  curtains,  a  young 
woman  was  seated  with  her  legs  crossed  beneath  her.  She 
was  clothed  in  a  large  mantle  of  salmon-pink  silk  bordered 
with  blue  and  gold  lace  and  ornamented  down  the  front 
and  on  the  sleeves  with  clusters  of  flowers  embroidered 
with  very  delicate  brilliancy  and  delicious  harmony  of  col- 
our. This  vestment  almost  entirely  covered  her  gown  of  a 
pale  and  dead  green  that  fell  in  folds  about  her. 

Her  hair,  gathered  up  on  the  top  of  her  head,  was  di- 
vided in  two  thick  folds,  crossed  here  and  there  by  long 
pins  of  gold,  surmounted  by  butterflies  of  silver  filagree, 
and  artificial  flowers  of  the  strangest  forms  and  hues. 
Also,  as  is  customary  among  ladies  of  quality,  her  face  was 
entirely  painted  with  ceruse;  but  the  cheeks  and  the  dimple 
of  the  chin  and  the  lips  were  coated  with  a  thick  layer  of 
carmine,  while  a  line  of  antimony  immoderately  lengthened 
her  eyes  out  towards  the  temples,  and  two  black  mouches 
stuck  near  the  cheek-bone,  gave  a  peculiar  appearance,  a 
sort  of  air  of  morbid  coquetry,  to  this  depressing  face  in 
which  life  seemed  to  have  been  extinguished. 

She  held  herself  in  a  paralyzed  immobility,  with  a  hebe- 
tated fixity  of  gaze  and  a  doubtful  glimmer  of  intelligence, 
oscillating  like  a  waxen  puppet  or  an  idol  in  a  procession, 


THE  SUMMER  PALACE 

at  each  jolt  of  the  carriage.  She  was,  doubtless,  judging 
from  the  livery  of  the  driver  and  the  escorting  horsemen,  a 
young  Tartar  lady  of  the  court,  one  of  the  Empress's 
maids  of  honour,  or  one  of  the  imperial  princesses  shut  up 
in  the  Palace. 

I  set  out  to  follow  her  at  a  distance.  Her  chariot  as- 
cended the  inclined  plane  of  a  bridge,  the  flooring  of  which 
was  of  marble;  the  balustrade,  also  of  marble,  supported 
some  sculptured  dragons. 

Beneath  the  arches,  the  waters  of  a  lake  glittered.  The 
light  of  the  sun,  still  near  the  horizon,  barely  touched  the 
liquid  surface  but  spread  its  brilliancy  everywhere  else.  In 
certain  spots,  lotus  flowers  blossomed  and  made  the  lake 
look  like  a  meadow  floating  upon  the  clear  and  sleeping 
waters.  It  was  the  "  Golden  Lake,"  a  dependency  of  the 
Imperial  Palace,  whose  high  walls  and  golden  roofs  could 
be  seen  in  the  background. 

Light  buildings,  such  as  kiosks  and  temples,  reached  to 
the  shore.  The  vast  number  of  these  roofs  assumed  rosy 
hues  and  the  slightest  details  of  their  complicated  architec- 
ture stood  out  clearly,  looking  in  the  liquid  air  that  envel- 
oped them,  elegant,  graceful  and  fresh  amid  the  apricot 
trees  and  blossoming  mimosas  that  covered  the  banks. 

North  China  was,  in  fact,  just  emerging  from  her  long 
winter's  mourning,  and  the  impression  given  by  that  spring- 
tide picture  of  earth's  new  awakening  was  exquisite. 

The  Tartar  chariot  continued  to  advance  with  the  rapid 
steps  of  its  mule  :  it  was  now  passing  at  the  foot  of  an 
artificial  hill,  planted  with  green  trees,  at  the  summit  of 


332  THE  SUMMER  PALACE 

which  rose  a  Buddhist  obelisk  that  stood  out  almost  harshly 
against  the  blue  of  the  sky. 

But  along  the  shore  of  the  lake,  the  tints  had  already  be- 
come deeper,  and  the  lines  less  sharp.  The  kiosks,  the 
pavilions,  and  the  temples  that  rose  upon  the  banks  ex- 
hibited the  original  type  of  Chinese  buildings,  a  canvas  tent 
with  turned  up  corners.  The  extreme  profusion  of  orna- 
mental details  did  not  succeed  in  hiding  the  poverty  of  the 
original  conception:  dragons,  chimeras,  phoenixes,  and  tor- 
toises, an  entire  fabulous  and  fantastic  zoology  of  sculp- 
tured wood  or  terra  cotta,  surcharged  the  ridge-poles ; 
figurines  and  painted  flowers  of  clay  weighed  down  the 
cornices,  the  larmiers,  and  the  pediments  ;  gaudy  colors 
made  a  motley  mixture  upon  the  capitals  of  the  columns 
and  the  architraves;  but  beneath  this  bristling  and  unre- 
strained decoration,  you  always  found  the  absolute  and  in- 
variable type  that  China  has  uniformly  adopted  at  every 
epoch  of  her  history  and  throughout  her  entire  empire. 

However,  I  had  by  this  time  arrived  at  the  fortified  en- 
closure of  the  palace.  High  above  me  a  rampart  reared 
itself,  thirty  feet  high  and  surrounded  by  a  wide  moat.  At 
regular  intervals,  towers  with  turned-up  roofs  jutted  out 
over  this  line  of  stone  which  extended  so  far  that  it  seemed 
to  shut  in  an  entire  city.  A  few  trees  had  crossed  the 
sloping  wall,  and  the  shadows  of  their  branches  spread  over 
the  dark  and  stagnant  waters  of  the  moat. 

A  large  gateway,  surmounted  by  an  enormous  square 
tower,  gave  access  to  the  interior  of  the  palace,  and  three 
gigantic  black  letters  engraved  upon  a  golden  panel  at  the 


THE  SUMMER  PALACE 


333 


summit  of  the  tower  seemed  a  mysterious  inscription 
placed  at  the  threshold  of  an  unknown  world. 

And  at  the  moment  when  the  Tartar  carriage  became 
engulfed  under  the  arch  and  was  lost  in  the  Imperial  en- 
closure, I  experienced  still  more  powerfully  the  impression 
that  I  had  received  three  years  before  in  Morocco  in  front 
of  the  palace  of  the  Sultan  Moulay-Hassan.  There  also, 
in  the  old  city  of  Islam  shining  in  the  sunlight,  I  had  felt 
myself  transported  into  the  midst  of  a  new  world,  but  I  saw 
the  barriers  broken  down,  I  was  able  to  pass  through  the 
great  pointed  doorways  of  Dar-el-Mechouar,  and  the 
Court  of  the  Scherifs  was  opened  before  me,  as  a  scene  of 
fairy-land  or  dreamland  unfolds  in  a  dazzling  brilliancy  of 
light  and  colour. 

Here,  on  the  contrary,  everything  remained  closed  and 
impenetrable. 

However,  the  topography  of  the  palace  was  not  entirely 
unknown  to  me ;  I  had  already  studied  the  plan  made  by 
the  Jesuit  missionaries  who  visited  it  in  the  Eighteenth 
Century,  and,  indeed,  from  the  heights  of  the  ramparts  of 
the  Tartar  village,  I  had  been  able  to  recognize  the  general 
arrangement  and  distinguish  the  regular  succession  of  its 
rectangular  court-yards  and  gardens  containing  forty-eight 
enormous  palaces  and  about  the  same  number  of  pavilions, 
kiosks,  arches  and  gateways. 

Only  the  tops  of  the  principal  buildings  rose  above  the 
surrounding  wall  and  into  the  clumps  of  verdure.  Very 
far  away,  in  the  south,  near  the  "  Gate  of  Eternal  Purity," 
I  perceived  the  temple  of  the  ancestors  of  the  dynasty  of 


334 


THE  SUMMER  PALACE 


Ta-Thsing  now  reigning,  where  the  Emperor  comes  at 
stated  dates  to  accomplish  the  sacred  rites  of  the  official 
cult. 

Then  nearer,  three  buildings,  taller  than  the  rest,  stood 
in  a  row,  and  the  sculptured  dragons  on  the  ridge-poles 
and  the  glazed  tiles  on  the  roofs  were  resplendent  in  the 
sunlight :  these  were  the  three  palaces  of  the  "  Sovereign 
Concord,  Medium  Concord,  and  Protective  Concord," 
where  the  Sovereign  attends  to  the  affairs  of  state  and 
traces  with  his  vermilion-steeped  pencil  the  characters 
that  express  his  decisions  and  that  are  laws  venerated  as  the 
figured  and  material  form  of  the  Imperial  will.  There, 
every  morning  at  two  o'clock,  the  Emperor  presides  at  the 
Grand  Council  of  the  Middle  Kingdom;  five  ministers 
only  have  access  to  it.  There,  no  matter  what  their  age  or 
fatigue,  they  must  remain  standing  the  whole  time,  or  bow 
their  foreheads  to  the  ground  when,  from  his  throne,  a 
stage  of  gilded  wood  raised  six  feet  above  the  floor,  the  Son 
of  Heaven  addresses  them.  During  the  minority  of  the 
sovereigns,  as  is  the  case  with  the  present  Emperor,  the 
Empress  Regent  is  present  also  in  the  council,  but  she  is 
not  considered  as  there,  and  a  screen  of  yellow  silk  hides 
her  from  all  eyes. 

Then  I  saw  a  confused  mass  of  houses  of  imperial 
princes,  Manchus,  chamberlains,  daughters  of  Emperors 
married  to  Mongol  princes  and  immured  in  the  palace  until 
their  death,  wives  of  the  second  degree  and  concubines  of 
the  deceased  sovereigns,  ladies  of  honour,  mistresses  of 
ceremonies,  and  eunuchs,  an  entire  population,  a  wisely 


THE  SUMMER  PALACE  335 

arranged  hierarchy  amounting  to  more  than  eight  thousand 
persons.  Towards  the  east,  in  the  dazzling  sunlight,  ap- 
peared also  the  barracks  of  the  three  banners  of  the  guard, 
the  treasury,  the  shops  of  porcelain,  silver,  and  silk,  orna- 
ments, garments,  tea,  religious  objects  destined  for  the  Son 
of  Heaven,  and  manufactories  where  things  are  prepared 
for  his  exclusive  use ;  the  armoury,  the  stables,  the  Im- 
perial library  where  the  oldest  annals  of  the  world  are  kept, 
the  "  Pavilion  of  the  Literary  Flowers,"  whither  the  Em- 
peror repairs  in  the  second  moon  of  the  year  to  interpret 
the  sacred  books ;  and  the  temple  of  the  Tchouan-sin-tien 
where  the  sacrifices  to  the  memory  of  Confucius  and  the 
great  philosophers  are  performed. 

Finally,  very  near  me,  behind  the  gardens  that  ran  along 
the  length  of  the  wall  of  the  enclosure,  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  "  Palace  of  the  Superior  Terrestrial  Element,"  which 
recalled  the  memory  of  that  unfortunate  Empress  Aluteh, 
who  died  in  1875  at  the  age  of  eighteen.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  a  Manchu  prince.  When  very  young,  barely 
fifteen  years,  a  decree  proclaiming  her  for  the  Emperor 
tossed  her  brusquely  into  the  Court  of  Pekin  from  her 
province  in  Tartary,  and  shut  her  up  in  the  palace  which 
she  was  to  leave  only  with  her  life.  On  November  16, 
1872,  at  midnight,  she  entered  in  bridal  toilette  through 
the  "  Gate  of  Celestial  Purity  "  :  she  wore  a  robe  of  red 
silk  embroidered  with  dragon  and  phoenix,  a  large  scarlet 
veil  enveloped  her  from  head  to  foot.  Three  years  later  she 
went  out  dead  through  the  "  Flowered  Gate  of  the  East "  : 
she  had  killed  herself  on  learning  of  the  death  of  her  hus- 


336  THE  SUMMER  PALACE 

band,  the  Emperor  Tong-Tche :  an  unusual  luxury  was 
lavished  upon  her  funeral  procession,  and  embroideries  of 
pale  blue  silk  upon  white  satin  embossed  with  gold  covered 
her  coffin. 

However,  the  hour  was  advancing ;  the  meeting  of  the 
Council  was  over;  the  couriers  of  state  were  departing  for 
the  provinces  ;  the  great  mandarins  came  out  of  the  palace, 
and  after  making  interminable  bows,  got  into  their  chariots, 
and  I  returned  to  the  French  Legation. 


BERKELEY  CASTLE 

ARTHUR  SHAD  WELL  MARTIN 

FOR  sylvan  beauty  and  pastoral  loveliness  there  is  no 
fairer  countryside  in  all  England  than  the  broad 
domains  of  which  the  old  feudal  stronghold  of  the  Berkeleys 
is  the  centre.  A  mile  to  the  westward,  the  Severn's  broad 
flood  sweeps  slowly  to  the  Bristol  Channel,  only  twenty 
miles  away.  Five  miles  or  so  to  the  eastward,  the  last 
spurs  of  the  Cotswold  Hills  sink  to  the  level  of  the  plain. 
There  is  Stinchcomb  Hill  with  its  flat  bare  top  dotted 
with  the  white  tents  of  its  summer  camp.  Beautiful  Durs- 
ley  lies  in  a  neighbouring  hollow.  Nibley  Knoll,  where 
begin  the  beeches  of  Westridge  Woods,  amid  which  are 
the  earthworks  of  a  Roman  or  Saxon  fort,  can  be  easily 
distinguished  by  the  column  by  Teulon  that  rises  about  one 
hundred  feet  to  commemorate  the  part  William  Tyndale 
took  in  the  Reformation.  The  little  valleys  running  into 
these  hills  (locally  called  bottoms)  hear  the  call  of  spring 
long  before  the  uplands,  and  along  the  margins  of  their 
streams  the  snowdrops  wake  to  nod  graciously  at  their  re- 
flected beauty  ;  and  then,  before  the  Westridge  Woods  are 
clothed  in  green,  among  the  shielding  trunks  the  primrose 
spreads  a  cloth  of  gold  above  the  last  year's  leaves. 

This  whole  district  is  thronged  with  historic  memories  ; 
many   a  Norman  cross  and  church  lies  within  a  circuit  of 


338  BERKELEY  CASTLE 

twelve  miles'  radius.  Tortworth  Court  is  close  at  hand. 
A  few  miles  down  across  the  river,  stands  mighty  Chepstow 
with  the  Wye  washing  her  ruined  walls  ;  but  Berkeley  is 
still  intact  and  inhabited  after  seven  centuries'  assault  by 
Time  and  civil  strife.  This  is  what  renders  Berkeley 
so  remarkable  among  English  castles :  it  retains  its  ancient 
shell,  and  it  has  always  been  owned  and  inhabited  by  a  lineal 
descendant  of  the  original  owner  and  builder. 

The  "  Faire  Vale  of  Berkeley  "  was  always  famous  for 
its  beauty  and  fertility.  William  of  Malmesbury  describes 
it  as  "  rich  in  corn,  productive  in  fruits  .  .  .  enticing 
even  the  lazy  to  industry  by  the  prospect  of  a  hundredfold 
return.  .  .  .  Neither  has  any  county  in  England  more 
numerous  or  richer  vineyards  .  .  .  the  wine  is  but 
little  inferior  to  that  of  France  in  sweetness."  The  vine- 
yards have  long  disappeared,  and  the  only  vines  now  seen 
are  those  that  beautify  the  walls  and  frame  the  latticed 
casements  of  the  cottages. 

In  Domesday  Book,  Berkeley  appears  as  a  royal  demesne 
and  borough  :  one  of  the  trees  mentioned  as  a  boundary  of 
the  hundred  is  still  pointed  out  in  the  Deer  Park,  and 
known  as  King  William's  Oak.  The  Conqueror  gave  the 
manor  to  Roger  de  Berkeley  who  erected  the  Keep  about 
1093.  At  first  this  was  only  a  military  hold  to  keep  the 
neighbourhood  in  check,  but  buildings  were  gradually  added 
till  the  castle  assumed  its  present  form  and  the  lord  took  up 
his  residence  here  under  Cceur  de  Lion,  a  century  later. 

Situated  on  a  little  rise,  its  strong  battlements  and  towers 
look  across  the  tops  of  the  beautiful  trees  that  now  shade 


BERKELEY  CASTLE 


339 


its  useless  moat,  and  the  visitor  enjoys  a  lovely  view  in 
every  direction.  Situated  midway  between  Gloucester  and 
Bristol,  the  baron,  predatory  doubtless  as  was  the  custom 
of  the  age,  was  in  a  fine  position  to  levy  toll  on  merchant 
caravans  that  must  pass  through  the  vale.  The  form  of 
the  castle  is  that  of  an  irregular  circle.  The  drawbridge 
leads  to  a  portcullised  gateway  in  massive  walls  between 
two  hexagonal  towers.  The  donjon  is  a  square  tower 
with  turrets  at  the  angles,  built  on  higher  ground  than  the 
other  constructions  to  dominate  the  rest  of  the  castle.  It 
was  erected  in  1342.  It  is  called  Thorpe's  tower  after  the 
family  who  held  lands  in  tenure  from  the  lord  in  return  for 
acting  as  its  warders.  The  strong  keep  also  still  stands 
and  shows  the  warder's  walk  fifty-eight  feet  in  length,  in 
perfect  preservation.  The  dimensions  of  the  great  hall  are 
forty-eight  by  thirty-three  feet.  Its  great  chimney  is 
adorned  with  mediaeval  armour  and  antlers.  The  ancient 
kitchen  and  other  offices  still  exist,  and  so  does  the  chapel 
with  its  Decorated  style  of  architecture.  The  sacrarium  is 
of  special  interest  since  it  is  divided  into  two  floors,  each 
with  a  separate  entrance  and  fire-place,  the  lower  for  the 
use  of  the  retainers  and  the  upper,  or  Oriel,  for  the  family 
and  guests.  The  living-rooms  contain  many  pictures  by 
famous  masters,  and  some  historic  furniture.  Among  the 
latter,  are  some  ebony  chairs  and  a  table  that  Drake  brought 
home  from  the  Spanish  Main. 

Rich  as  the  castle  is  in  antiquarian  remains,  however,  the 
interest  of  these  walls  is  multiplied  a  hundredfold  by  their 
historical  associations.  When  we  take  our  stand  on  the 


340 


BERKELEY  CASTLE 


summit  of  the  Donjon  and  look  around  and  below  us, 
what  memories  are  evoked  !  When  we  recall  the  history 
of  the  family,  we  cannot  but  marvel  that  the  ancient  line  is 
still  in  possession ;  for  a  turbulent  race  were  the  Berkeleys, 
and  often  arrayed  against  the  Crown.  Roger  de  Berkeley 
joined  Stephen  against  the  granddaughter  of  his  father's 
benefactor,  and  therefore  Henry  Fitz-Empress  confiscated 
his  fief,  and  conferred  it  upon  Robert  Fitz-Harding,  Gov- 
ernor of  Bristol,  of  royal  Danish  descent,  at  the  same  time 
making  him  a  baron.  The  latter's  son,  however,  married 
Roger's  heiress,  and  thus  the  Berkeleys  were  restored  in 
their  son  Maurice.  Robert,  the  son  of  the  latter,  joined 
the  barons  against  John,  who  seized  the  castle,  and  was 
there  in  the  last  year  of  his  reign.  However,  Robert's 
brother  Thomas  managed  to  get  it  restored,  in  1233,  ty 
Henry  III.  Maurice,  the  son  of  Thomas,  was  in  rebellion 
with  Simon  de  Montfort  twenty-five  years  later,  and,  as  a 
result,  Berkeley  was  again  confiscated.  His  son  Thomas 
served  Edward  I.,  the  "  Hammer  of  the  Scots,"  so  well  in 
the  North  that  he  got  back  his  ancestral  honours  and 
domains  and  was  summoned  to  Parliament  as  Baron  Berke- 
ley in  1295.  This  lord  and  his  son  and  grandson  were  rich 
and  powerful,  and  all  the  beautiful  "  Edwardian  "  stone- 
work is  of  this  period.  Much  of  the  older  work  was 
cleared  away  for  the  new  buildings  of  the  loveliest  style  of 
English  Gothic.  But  what  a  deed  of  violence  was  perpe- 
trated in  the  narrow  chamber  in  the  adjoining  building  below 
us  !  We  have  reached  the  dark  memory  that  above  all  else 
enshrouds  Berkeley.  The  effeminate  king  who  lost  Ban- 


BERKELEY  CASTLE 


341 


nockburn  and  handed  over  the  reins  of  government  to  the 
unworthy  Gaveston  and  De  Spencers,  decimating  the  Eng- 
lish baronage  at  their  behests,  and  revelling  in  Oriental  vice 
and  ferocity,  finally  succumbed  to  his  wife  and  her  paramour 
at  Kenilworth  early  in  1327.  The  Lord  of  Berkeley  now 
was  Thomas,  the  grandson  of  the  favourite  of  Edward  I. 
To  him  and  to  two  knights  named  John  Maltravers  and 
Thomas  de  Gournay  was  entrusted  the  custody  of  the 
dethroned  Edward  II.  The  two  latter  removed  their  captive 
secretly  and  treated  him  with  every  indignity  :  they  crowned 
him  with  a  crown  of  hay  and  shaved  him  with  ditch-water 
along  the  way.  A  circumstantial  account  tells  how  he  said 
therefore  he  would  supply  his  own  hot  water  with  tears  ! 
On  Palm  Sunday,  Baron  Thomas  received  him  kindly  and 
treated  him  with  consideration,  whereupon  he  received  a 
reprimand  from  Queen  Isabel,  bidding  him  "  use  no 
familiarity  with  Edward,  the  late  king ; "  and  so,  fearing 
for  himself,  he  "  departed  with  heavy  cheere,  perceiving 
what  violence  was  intended."  Lovely  as  was  the  view 
from  his  window,  the  long  summer  from  April  to  Septem- 
ber brought  no  joy  to  the  prisoner.  The  Berkeley  MS. 
says  that  "  this  poor,  foolish  king  did  nothing  but  lament 
for  his  wife,  singing  love-songs  in  a  low  voice  and  grieving 
that  she  would  neither  see  him  nor  permit  his  son  or  any  of 
his  relatives  to  come  near  him.  The  Queen  was  afraid 
that  the  Church  would  compel  her  to  live  with  him  again, 
and  therefore  urged  his  death."  At  first,  his  keepers  tried 
to  ruin  his  health  by  piling  putrid  carcases  in  the  pit  below 
his  chamber;  then  they  kept  him  half-starved  and  half-clad. 


342 


BERKELEY  CASTLE 


Yet  the  Queen  reproved  them  for  excessive  clemency  ! 
Marlowe  quotes  the  historian  in  noble  verse  when  Edward 
complains  : 

"  In  mire  and  puddle  I  have  stood 
This  ten  days'  space ;  and,  lest  that  I  should  sleep, 
One  plays  continually  upon  a  drum. 
They  give  me  bread  and  water,  being  a  king, 
So  that,  for  want  of  sleep  and  sustenance, 
My  mind's  distempered  and  my  body's  numbed.     . 
O,  would  my  blood  dropped  out  from  every  vein, 
As  doth  this  water  from  my  tattered  robes. 
Tell  Isabel,  the  queen,  I  looked  not  thus, 
When  for  her  sake  I  ran  at  tilt  in  France, 
And  there  unhorsed  the  Duke  of  Cleremont !  " 

The  night  of  September  22nd  heard  the  shrieks  of  the 
tortured  king :  that  they  reached  the  ears  of  people  in  the 
town,  who  crossed  themselves  and  prayed  for  the  passing 
soul,  is  doubtless  a  statement  due  to  the  historian's  sympathy, 
for  the  walls  are  thick.  In  the  morning,  the  citizens  of 
Bristol  were  called  to  gaze  upon  the  distorted  features  of 
their  dead  king,  who  otherwise  bore  no  sign  of  violence. 
All  were  afraid  to  bury  Isabel's  victim,  till  the  Abbot  of 
Gloucester  bravely  undertook  the  task.  The  next  year 
Isabel  and  Mortimer  actually  visited  Berkeley,  and  were 
entertained  by  its  wealthy  lord.  The  latter  kept  twelve 
knights  to  wait  upon  him,  each  of  whom  was  served  by  two 
servants  and  a  page.  He  also  had  twenty-four  esquires, 
each  of  whom  had  a  horse  and  an  attendant.  There  were 
about  three  hundred  in  his  household  who  fed  at  his  board. 


BERKELEY  CASTLE  34.3 

The  Lord  of  Berkeley  was  a  mighty  baron  in  those  days. 
The  blame  had  to  be  shifted,  however,  and  so  he  was 
brought  to  an  irregular  trial  before  twelve  knights,  instead 
of  his  peers :  he  was  finally  acquitted  of  complicity  in 
the  crime  in  1330.  In  that  year,  his  son  and  successor, 
Maurice,  was  born.  He  fought  in  Granada  and  Gascony, 
and  was  so  desperately  wounded  at  Poictiers  in  1366  that 
he  died  at  Berkeley  two  years  later.  His  son  Thomas  was 
also  a  warrior  who  unfurled  his  banner  in  Spain,  France 
and  Scotland.  He  entertained  Richard  IT.  at  Berkeley  in 
1386,  but  this  did  not  prevent  his  voting  for  Richard's 
deposition  in  favour  of  Bolingbroke  in  1399. 

The  direct  male  line  fails  soon  after  this  and  the  Berke- 
ley heiress  marries  a  Talbot.  A  collateral  branch  comes 
in  and  the  descendants  have  rival  claims  and  start  what  is 
usually  called  the  longest  lawsuit  on  record  :  it  is  not  finally 
settled  till  1609.  In  the  course  of  this  suit,  occurs  the 
last  battle  that  was  fought  between  independent  noblemen 
in  England.  Lord  Lisle  of  Wotton,  the  grandson  of 
the  great  Talbot,  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  claims  Berkeley 
which  is  held  by  William,  a  fiery  youth  of  nineteen. 
(Wotton-under-Edge  lies  under  the  edge  of  the  hills  three 
miles  beyond  Nibley  Knoll.)  On  March  22nd,  1470,  the 
Viscount  sends  a  challenge  to  Berkeley  to  settle  all  differ- 
ences by  combat :  it  is  eagerly  accepted.  There  was  bustle 
in  the  castle  that  night.  The  meeting  was  at  Nibley 
Green.  Long  Lane  still  preserves  memories  of  how  the 
men  of  Berkeley  chased  the  men  of  Wotton  into  the 
churchyard  till  the  grass  was  heavy  with  crimson  dew. 


344 


BERKELEY   CASTLE 


Berkeley  far  outnumbered  Lisle  ;  moreover  the  latter  were 
taken  as  they  were  marching  unawares,  and  an  arrow  en- 
tered their  leader's  open  visor  and  a  dagger  afterwards  fin- 
ished him.  The  victors  proceed  to  Wotton  and  sacked 
Lisle's  house.  His  widow  gave  premature  birth  to  a  dead 
son  amid  the  carnage,  and  the  Lisle  claims  were  ended. 
The  Wars  of  the  Roses  were  still  raging  and  a  little  affair 
of  that  kind  passed  unnoticed. 

Margaret  of  Anjon  rested  once  at  Berkeley  in  her  cam- 
paigning. Richard  III.  created  Viscount  Berkeley  an  Earl, 
but,  true  to  his  race,  he  went  over.  When  Henry  of 
Richmond  landed  at  Milford  Haven,  Berkeley  joined  him 
and,  to  spite  his  heir,  made  over  to  him  his  castle  and  do- 
mains. After  Bosworth,  Henry  created  him  a  Marquess, 
but  his  avarice  induced  him  to  keep  the  property.  In  de- 
fault of  heirs  male,  however,  on  the  death  of  Edward  II., 
it  lapsed  to  the  Berkeley  heirs  again.  The  new  lord  of 
Berkeley  was  a  mighty  hunter  and  delighted  in  his  beautiful 
deer  park.  On  one  of  her  progresses,  Good  Queen  Bess 
paid  him  a  visit.  He  happened  to  be  absent,  but  his  veni- 
son proved  useful  in  victualling  the  courtly  following. 
Everybody  knows  what  it  cost  to  entertain  that  locust- 
swarm  !  When  Lord  Henry  returned,  he  was  greatly  en- 
raged at  the  havoc,  and  ordered  his  park  to  be  disparked 
rather  than  let  it  be  a  future  temptation.  Elizabeth  heard 
of  this  and  sent  him  a  quiet  hint  to  "  beware  of  his  words 
and  actions,  for  the  Earl  of  Leicester  greatly  desired  the 
castle  for  himself!"  One  of  the  rooms  in  this  "Naboth's 
vineyard  "  is  still  called  Queen  Elizabeth's  room.  Other 


BERKELEY  CASTLE  345 

royal  guests  who  have  visited  the  castle  are  George  IV.  and 
William  IV. 

The  Earls  of  Berkeley  no  longer  own  their  ancestral 
home,  in  fact  they  maintain  that  the  title  is  not  rightfully 
theirs.  This  celebrated  romance  of  the  peerage  started 
with  the  fifth  Earl.  Some  of  his  children  were  born  be- 
fore the  only  marriage  he  could  prove  to  the  satisfaction  of 
the  House  of  Lords,  though  he  maintained  that  he  and  the 
lady  had  previously  gone  through  a  secret  marriage  cere- 
mony. The  Earl  left  the  castle  and  estates  to  his  eldest 
son,  and  the  Crown  created  him  Baron  Fitzhardinge.  The 
late  Earl  of  Berkeley  never  took  his  seat  in  the  House  of 
Lords  nor  assumed  his  title  in  any  way  since  the  decision 
that  set  the  baton  sinister  in  the  escutcheon  of  the  elder 
sons  of  the  fifth  Earl. 


THE  CASTLE  OF  CHILLON 

NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE 

FURTHER  onward  we  saw  a  white,  ancient-looking 
group  of  towers,  beneath  a  mountain,  which  was  so 
high,  and  rushed  so  precipitately  down  upon  this  pile  of 
building  as  quite  to  dwarf  it;  besides  which,  its  dingy 
whiteness  had  not  a  very  picturesque  effect.  Nevertheless, 
this  was  the  Castle  of  Chillon.  It  appears  to  sit  right  upon 
the  water,  and  does  not  rise  very  loftily  above  it.  I  was 
disappointed  in  its  aspect,  having  imagined  this  famous 
castle  as  situated  upon  a  rock,  a  hundred,  or  for  aught  I 
know,  a  thousand  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  lake ;  but 
it  is  quite  as  impressive  a  fact — supposing  it  to  be  true — 
that  the  water  is  eight  hundred  feet  deep  at  its  base.  By 
this  time,  the  mountains  had  taken  the  beautiful  lake  into 
their  deepest  heart;  they  girdled  it  quite  round  with  their 
grandeur  and  beauty,  and,  being  able  to  do  no  more  for  it, 
they  here  withheld  it  from  extending  any  farther;  and  here 
our  voyage  came  to  an  end.  I  have  never  beheld  any 
scene  so  exquisite ;  nor  do  I  ask  of  Heaven  to  show  me 
any  lovelier  or  nobler  one,  but  only  to  give  me  such  depth 
and  breadth  of  sympathy  with  nature,  that  I  may  worthily 
enjoy  this.  It  is  beauty  more  than  enough  for  poor,  perish- 
able mortals.  If  this  be  earth,  what  must  Heaven  be  ! 
It  was  nearly  eight  o'clock  when  we  arrived ;  and  then 


THE  CASTLE  OF  CHILLON 


347 


we  had  a  walk  of  at  least  a  mile  to  the  Hotel  Byron.  I 
had  forgot  to  mention  that  in  the  latter  part  of  our  voyage 
there  was  a  shower  in  some  part  of  the  sky,  and  though 
none  of  it  fell  upon  us,  we  had  the  benefit  of  those  gentle 
tears  in  a  rainbow,  which  arched  itself  across  the  lake  from 
mountain  to  mountain,  so  that  our  track  lay  directly  under 
this  triumphal  arch.  We  took  it  as  a  good  omen,  nor  were 
we  discouraged,  though,  after  the  rainbow  had  vanished,  a 
few  sprinkles  of  the  shower  came  down. 

We  found  the  Hotel  Byron  very  grand  indeed,  and  a 
good  one,  too.  There  was  a  beautiful  moonlight  on  the 
lake  and  hills,  but  we  contented  ourselves  with  looking  out 
of  our  lofty  window,  whence,  likewise,  we  had  a  sidelong 
glimpse  at  the  white  battlements  of  Chillon,  not  more  than 
a  mile  off,  on  the  water's  edge.  The  castle  is  wofully  in 
need  of  a  pedestal.  If  its  site  were  elevated  to  a  height 
equal  to  its  own  it  would  make  a  far  better  appearance.  As 
it  now  is,  it  looks,  so  to  speak  profanely  of  what  poetry  has 
consecrated,  when  seen  from  the  water,  or  along  the  shore 
of  the  lake,  very  like  an  old  whitewashed  factory  or  mill. 

This  morning  I  walked  to  the  Castle  of  Chillon  with 

J ,  who  sketches  everything  he  sees,  from  a  wild  flower 

to  a  castle  or  a  range  of  mountains.  The  morning  had 
sunshine  thinly  scattered  through  it ;  but,  nevertheless, 
there  was  a  continual  sprinkle,  sometimes  scarcely  percept- 
ible, and  then  again  amounting  to  a  decided  drizzle.  The 
road,  which  is  built  along  on  a  little  elevation  above  the  lake 
shore,  led  us  past  the  Castle  of  Chillon ;  and  we  took  a 
side-path,  which  passes  still  nearer  the  castle-gate.  The 


THE  CASTLE  OF  CHILLON 

castle  stands  on  an  isthmus  of  gravel,  permanently  connect- 
ing it  with  the  mainland.  A  wooden  bridge  covered  with 
a  roof,  passes  from  the  shore  to  the  arched  entrance ;  and 
beneath  this  shelter,  which  has  wooden  walls  as  well  as  roof 
and  floor,  we  saw  a  soldier  or  gendarme,  who  seemed  to  act 
as  warder.  As  it  sprinkled  rather  more  freely  than  at  first, 
I  thought  of  appealing  to  his  hospitality  for  shelter  from  the 
rain,  but  concluded  to  pass  on. 

The  castle  makes  a  far  better  appearance  on  a  nearer 
view,  and  from  the  land,  than  when  seen  at  a  distance  and 
from  the  water.  It  is  built  of  stone,  and  seems  to  have 
been  anciently  covered  with  plaster,  which  imparts  the  white- 
ness to  which  Byron  does  much  more  than  justice,  when  he 
speaks  of  "  Chillon's  snow-white  battlements."  There  is 
a  lofty  eternal  wall,  with  a  cluster  of  round  towers  about  it, 
each  crowned  with  its  pyramidal  roof  of  tiles,  and  from  the 
central  portion  of  the  castle  rises  a  square  tower,  also 
crowned  with  its  own  pyramid  to  a  considerably  greater 
height  than  the  circumjacent  ones.  The  whole  are  in  a 
close  cluster,  and  make  a  fine  picture  of  ancient  strength 
when  seen  at  a  proper  proximity ;  for  I  do  not  think  that 
distance  adds  anything  to  the  effect.  There  are  hardly  any 
windows,  or  few,  and  very  small  ones,  except  the  loopholes 
for  arrows  and  for  the  garrison  of  the  castle  to  peep  from 
on  the  sides  towards  the  water;  indeed,  there  are  larger 
windows  at  least  in  the  upper  apartments;  but  in  that  di- 
rection, no  doubt,  the  castle  was  considered  impregnable. 
Trees  here  and  there  on  the  land  side  grow  up  against  the 
castle  wall,  on  one  part  of  which,  moreover,  there  was  a 


THE  CASTLE  OF  CHILLON 


349 


green  curtain  of  ivy  spreading  from  base  to  battlement. 
The  walls  retain  their  machicolations,  and  I  should  judge 
that  nothing  had  been  altered,  nor  any  more  work  been  done 
upon  the  old  fortress  than  to  keep  it  in  singularly  good  re- 
pair. It  was  formerly  a  castle  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  and 
since  his  sway  over  the  country  ceased  (three  hundred  years 
at  least),  it  has  been  in  the  hands  of  the  Swiss  government, 
who  still  keep  some  arms  and  ammunition  there. 

We  passed  on,  and  found  the  view  of  it  better,  as  we 
thought,  from  a  farther  point  along  the  road.  The  rain- 
drops began  to  spatter  down  faster,  and  we  took  shelter 
under  an  impending  precipice,  where  the  ledge  of  rock  had 
been  blasted  and  hewn  away  to  form  the  road.  Our  refuge 
was  not  a  very  convenient  and  comfortable  one,  so  we  took 
advantage  of  the  partial  cessation  of  the  shower  to  turn 
homeward,  but  we  had  not  gone  far  when  we  met  mamma 
and  all  her  train.  As  we  were  close  by  the  castle  entrance, 
we  thought  it  advisable  to  seek  admission,  though  rather 
doubtful  whether  the  Swiss  gendarmes  might  not  deem  it  a 
sin  to  let  us  into  the  castle  on  Sunday.  But  he  very  read- 
ily admitted  us  under  his  covered  drawbridge,  and  called  an 
old  man  from  within  the  fortress  to  show  us  whatever  was 
to  be  seen.  This  latter  personage  was  a  staid,  rather  grim, 
and  Calvinistic-looking  old  worthy ;  but  he  received  us 
without  scruple,  and  forthwith  proceeded  to  usher  us  into  a 
range  of  the  most  dismal  dungeons,  extending  along  the 
basement  of  the  castle,  on  a  level  with  the  surface  of  the 
lake.  First,  if  I  remember  aright,  we  came  to  what  he  said 
had  been  a  chapel,  and  which,  at  all  events,  looked  like  an 


350 


THE  CASTLE  OF  CHILLON 


aisle  of  one,  or  rather  such  a  crypt  as  I  have  seen  beneath 
a  cathedral,  being  a  succession  of  massive  pillars  supporting 
groined  arches, — a  very  admirable  piece  of  Gothic  archi- 
tecture. Next,  we  came  to  a  very  dark  compartment  of 
the  same  dungeon  range,  where  he  pointed  to  a  sort  of  bed, 
or  what  might  serve  for  a  bed,  hewn  in  the  solid  rock,  and 
this,  our  guide  said,  had  been  the  last  sleeping-place  of  con- 
demned prisoners  on  the  night  before  their  execution.  The 
next  compartment  was  still  duskier  and  dismaller  than  the 
last,  and  he  bade  us  cast  our  eyes  up  into  the  obscurity  and 
see  a  beam,  where  the  condemned  ones  used  to  be  hanged. 
I  looked  and  looked,  and  closed  my  eyes  so  as  to  see  the 
clearer  in  this  horrible  duskiness  on  opening  them  again. 
Finally,  I  thought  I  discerned  the  accursed  beam,  and  the 
rest  of  the  party  were  certain  that  they  saw  it.  Next,  be- 
yond this,  I  think,  was  a  stone  staircase,  steep,  rudely  cut 
and  narrow,  down  which  the  condemned  were  brought  to 
death  ;  and  beyond  this,  still  on  the  same  basement  range  of 
the  castle,  a  low  and  narrow  [corridor]  through  which  we 
passed,  and  saw  a  row  of  seven  massive  pillars,  supporting 
two  parallel  series  of  groined  arches,  like  those  in  the 
chapel  which  we  first  entered.  This  was  Bonnivard's 
prison,  and  the  scene  of  Byron's  poem. 

The  arches  are  dimly  lighted  by  narrow  loopholes, 
pierced  through  the  immensely  thick  wall,  but  at  such  a 
height  above  the  floor  that  we  could  catch  no  glimpse  of 
land  or  water,  or  scarcely  of  the  sky.  The  prisoner  of 
Chillon  could  not  possibly  have  seen  the  island  to  which 
Byron  alludes,  and  which  is  a  little  way  from  the  shore,  ex- 


THE  CASTLE  OF  CHILLON 


351 


actly  opposite  the  town  of  Villeneuve.  There  was  light 
enough  in  this  long,  grey,  vaulted  room,  to  show  us  that  all 
the  pillars  were  inscribed  with  the  names  of  visitors,  among 
which  I  saw  no  interesting  one,  except  that  of  Byron  him- 
self, which  is  cut,  in  letters  an  inch  long  or  more,  into  one 
of  the  pillars  next  to  that  to  which  Bonnivard  was  chained. 
The  letters  are  deep  enough  to  remain  in  the  pillar  as  long 
as  the  castle  stands.  Byron  seems  to  have  had  a  fancy  for 
recording  his  name  in  this  and  similar  ways ;  as  witness  the 
record  which  I  saw  on  a  tree  of  Newstead  Abbey.  In  Bon- 
nivard's  pillar  there  still  remains  an  iron  ring,  at  the  height 
of  perhaps  three  feet  from  the  ground.  His  chain  was 
fastened  to  this  ring,  and  his  only  freedom  was  to  walk 
round  this  pillar,  about  which  he  is  said  to  have  worn  a 
path  in  the  stone  pavement  of  the  dungeon ;  but  as  the 
floor  is  now  covered  with  earth  of  gravel,  I  could  not 
satisfy  myself  whether  this  be  true.  Certainly  six  years 
with  nothing  else  to  do  in  them  save  to  walk  round  the  pil- 
lar, might  well  suffice  to  wear  away  the  rock,  even  with 
naked  feet.  This  column  and  all  the  columns,  were  cut 
and  hewn  in  a  good  style  of  architecture,  and  the  dungeon 
arches  are  not  without  a  certain  gloomy  beauty.  On  Bon- 
nivard's  pillar,  as  well  as  on  all  the  rest,  were  many  names 
inscribed ;  but  I  thought  better  of  Byron's  delicacy  and 
sensitiveness  for  not  cutting  his  name  into  that  very  pillar. 
Perhaps,  knowing  nothing  of  Bonnivard's  story,  he  did  not 
know  to  which  column  he  was  chained. 

Emerging    from    the    dungeon-vaults,  our  guide  led  us 
through  other  parts  of  the  castle,  showing  us  the  Duke  of 


352 


THE   CASTLE   OF  CHILLON 


Savoy's  kitchen,  with  a  fireplace  at  least  twelve  feet  long; 
also  the  judgment-hall,  or  some  such  place,  hung  round 
with  the  coats-of-arms  of  some  officers  or  other,  and  having 
at  one  end  a  wooden  post,  reaching  from  floor  to  ceiling, 
and  having  upon  it  the  marks  of  fire.  By  means  of  this 
post  contumacious  prisoners  were  put  to  a  dreadful  torture, 
being  drawn  up  by  cords  and  pulleys,  while  their  limbs 
were  scorched  by  a  fire  underneath.  We  also  saw  a  chapel 
or  two,  one  of  which  is  still  in  good  and  sanctified  con- 
dition, and  was  to  be  used  this  very  day,  our  guide  told  us, 
for  religious  purposes.  We  saw,  moreover,  the  Duke's 
private  chamber,  with  a  part  of  the  bedstead  on  which  he 
used  to  sleep,  and  be  haunted  with  horrible  dreams,  no 
doubt,  and  the  ghosts  of  wretches  whom  he  had  tortured  and 
hanged ;  likewise  the  bedchamber  of  his  duchess,  that  had 
in  its  window  two  stone  seats,  where,  directly  over  the  head 
of  Bonnivard,  the  ducal  pair  might  look  out  on  the  beauti- 
ful scene  of  lake  and  mountains,  and  feel  the  warmth  of  the 
blessed  sun.  Under  this  window,  the  guide  said,  the  water 
of  the  lake  is  eight  hundred  feet  in  depth ;  an  immense 
profundity,  indeed,  for  an  inland  lake,  but  it  is  not  very 
difficult  to  believe  that  the  mountain  at  the  foot  of  which 
Chillon  stands  may  descend  so  far  beneath  the  water.  In 
other  parts  of  the  lake  and  not  distant,  more  than  nine  hun- 
dred feet  have  been  sounded.  I  looked  out  of  the  duchess's 
window,  and  could  certainly  see  no  appearance  of  a  bottom 
in  the  light  blue  water. 

The  last  thing  that  the  guide  showed  us  was  a  trap-door, 
or  opening,  beneath  a  crazy    old  floor.       Looking  down 


THE  CASTLE  OF  CHILLON 


353 


into  this  aperture  we  saw  three  stone  steps,  which  we 
should  have  taken  to  be  the  beginning  of  a  flight  of  stairs 
that  descended  into  a  dungeon,  or  series  of  dungeons,  such 
as  we  had  already  seen.  But  inspecting  them  more  closely, 
we  saw  that  the  third  step  terminated  the  flight,  and  beyond 
was  a  dark  vacancy.  Three  steps  a  person  would  grope 
down,  planting  his  uncertain  foot  on  a  dimly  seen  stone ; 
the  fourth  step  would  be  in  the  empty  air. 


ROCCA  MALATESTIANA 

CHARLES  YRIARTE 

THE  name  of  Malatesta  illuminates  every  step  in 
Rimini.  The  fortification  that  serves  to  enclose 
the  town,  strengthened  by  towers  of  defence  and  by  win- 
dows that  resemble  our  modern  casements,  is  certainly  due 
to  them.  The  celebrated  fortress  known  under  the  name 
of  Rocca  Malatestiana  still  commands  the  city,  although  it 
is  now  dismantled  and  converted  into  a  prison,  and  upon 
the  square,  San  Francesco,  there  rises  the  Temple  of  the 
Malatestas  (Tempio  Malatestiano),  the  purest  building, 
perhaps,  of  the  most  beautiful  period  of  Italian  art,  upon 
the  pediment  of  which  you  read  the  pompous  inscription  : 
"To  Immortal  God  Sigismond  Malatesta,  son  of  Pan- 
dolphe." 

In  1294,  Malatesta  da  Verucchio  built  the  castle  upon 
the  same  site,  and  he  made  of  it  at  once  a  sumptuous  resi- 
dence and  a  solid  fortress  to  which  was  given  the  name  of 
Gattolo  dei  Malatesta.  It  is  from  there  that  Verucchio 
dates  his  will.  The  great  Ghiberti,  the  sculptor  of  the 
"  Gates  of  Paradise,"  tells  us,  in  his  Commentaries  that  in 
1400  he  made  some  enamels  for  the  apartments  and  that  he 
painted  some  frescoes.  Alas  !  nothing  of  these  remains 
for  us.  In  1446,  comes  Sigismond,  son  of  Pandolphe,  the 
great  warrior  and  conqueror,  he  who  has  been  nicknamed 


ROCCA  MALATESTIANA 


355 


Poliorcete,  skilful  in  making  fortifications,  pupil  and  soon 
the  rival  of  Roberto  Valturco,  the  celebrated  author  of  the 
volume  of  Re  Militari ;  he  battered  down  the  Gattolo,  or, 
at  least,  he  changed  it  from  roof  to  basement  at  the  mo- 
ment when  the  discovery  of  artillery  had  changed  all  the 
conditions  of  the  attack  and  defence  of  old  castles.  It  was 
during  this  transformation  that  the  frescoes  and  all  the 
ornamentation,  of  which  Ghiberti  speaks,  disappeared. 
Two  superb  inscriptions,  one  Gothic,  the  other  of  the  first 
half  of  the  Fifteenth  Century,  surmounted  by  the  es- 
cutcheon of  the  Malatestas  with  the  helmet  crowned  by 
elephants'  heads  and  the  chess-board,  are  sure  guarantees 
of  these  serious  modifications.  In  order  that  they  should 
be  proved  with  more  certainty,  Matteo  de'  Pasti,  a 
pensioner  of  the  lord  of  Rimini,  struck,  by  order  of  his 
master,  the  superb  commemorative  medal  representing 
the  Rocca  Malatestiana.  Piero  della  Francesca,  the  great 
artist  to  whom  we  owe  the  greater  number  of  the  beautiful 
portraits  of  the  Bentivoglios,  the  Montefeltros,  and  the 
Malatestas,  brings  us,  in  his  turn,  an  unexceptionable 
proof, — the  day  when,  in  the  temple  of  San  Francesco  of 
Rimini,  the  pantheon  of  the  Malatesta  family,  he  represents 
the  lord  of  Rimini  kneeling  before  Saint  Sigismond,  and 
gives  the  view  of  the  Rocca  as  a  background  for  his 
precious  fresco. 

So  imposing  a  mass  should  certainly  have  triumphed 
over  time,  but  it  has  been  disfigured  at  the  pleasure  of  suc- 
ceeding generations.  Upon  the  ground  where  we  walk 
while  regarding  the  present  facade,  is  dug  the  first  en- 


356  ROCCA  MALATESTIANA 

closure,  a  large  moat  a  hundred  feet  wide  and  thirty-five 
feet  deep,  to-day  filled  up  and  forming  a  platform.  We 
find  no  longer  the  six  towers,  eighty  feet  high,  destroyed 
by  Urbain  VIII.  (1625),  who  has  also  given  his  name  to 
the  building  for  more  than  a  century, — Castello  Urbano. 
Finally,  in  1826,  the  first  circuit  was  razed,  and,  the  moat 
having  already  disappeared,  they  did  away  with  the  draw- 
bridge. It  is  nothing  more  than  a  prison,  through  the 
gratings  of  which  we  see  the  red  caps  of  the  prisoners  who 
come  to  gaze  upon  a  bit  of  blue  sky. 

Another  tradition  insists  that  the  Malatestas,  sons  of 
Verucchio,  lived,  during  the  lifetime  of  their  father,  in  a 
dwelling  near  the  old  gate  of  San  Andrea;  but  the  house 
designated,  dating  at  most  from  the  last  centuries,  belonged 
to  the  Graziani,  and  to-day  it  serves  as  the  residence  for 
the  family  of  the  Ugolini  Micheli.  One  sees  how  difficult 
it  is  to  establish  anything  even  after  long  inquiry  ;  however, 
the  conclusion  of  the  historian,Tonini,  must  also  be  our  own  : 
the  cruel  scene  must  have  taken  place  in  Rimini,  and  prob- 
ably in  the  Gattolo  de  Santa  Colomba,  that  is  to  say  in  the 
fortress  known  to-day  under  the  name  of  Rocca  Malates- 
tiana,  a  residence  greatly  disfigured  and  modified,  where  it 
would  be  impossible  to  identify  the  exact  spot  of  the  mur- 
der, but  which,  according  to  a  number  of  chronicles,  was 
at  the  moment  this  murder  was  accomplished,  a  princely 
residence,  "containing  noble  apartments,"  with  the  exterior 
appearance  of  a  castle. 

Since  Francesca  was  born  in  Ravenna,  why  has  posterity 
unanimously  designated  her  under  the  name  of  Francesca 


ROCCA  MALATESTIANA 


357 


da  Rimini  ?  Logically  she  should  be  Francesca  da  Ra- 
venna; but  she  lived  in  Rimini  as  the  wife  of  Giovanni 
Malatesta,  and  it  was  there  that  she  expiated  her  crime,  or 
her  weakness,  by  death ;  it  was  there  that  her  tomb  was 
made,  and  posterity  will  therefore  forever  call  her  by  the 
name  of  Francesca  da  Rimini.  Moreover,  if  we  sum  up 
the  opinions  of  the  chroniclers  and  historians,  it  is  under- 
stood by  the  most  of  them  that  the  deed  was  accomplished 
in  this  town,  and  they  doubt  it  so  little  that  the  idea  never 
occurs  to  them  to  support  a  contrary  opinion.  Marco 
Battaglia,  Benvenuto  da  Imola,  Fra  Giovanni  da  Serravalle, 
and  Baldo  di  Branchi  furnish  proofs  that  might  be  consid- 
ered as  negative ;  but  if  they  do  not  cite  the  name  of 
Rimini,  it  never  occurs  to  them  to  mention  any  other  town. 
As  for  Jacopo  Delia  Lana,  Gradinego  and  Boccaccio,  all 
three  name  the  city  of  the  Malatestas,  and  later,  when 
Silvio  Pellico  and  many  other  dramatic  poets  of  other 
nations  will  write  their  dramas,  their  j>oems,  or  their  stories, 
they  will  not  hesitate  to  place  the  scene  in  the  same  city. 
Count  Odoardo  Fabri  will  not  do  otherwise,  and  if  Lord 
Byron  had  realized  the  plan  he  conceived  and  which  he 
made  known  to  Murray,  his  publisher,  in  the  letters  which 
are  now  in  everybody's  hands,  Rimini  would  still  be  the 
scene.  Is  it  necessary  to  speak  of  our  compatriot,  M. 
Auguste  Thomas,  the  composer  of  Mignon,  who  having 
written  the  score  of  Francesca  da  Rimini,  dedicated  it  to 
M.  Tonini,  the  librarian  of  the  Gambalunghiana. 

Francesca  then    is   not   Francesca  da    Ravenna,  she  is 
and  she  will  ever  remain  "  Francesca  da  Rimini." 


358 


ROCCA  MALATESTIANA 


She  belongs  to  the  history  of  this  town,  or  if  you  prefer, 
to  its  legend.  It  is  in  vain  to  turn  over  the  leaves  of  the 
archives,  you  cannot  deprive  the  city  of  the  Malatestas  of 
its  touching  picture. 

Before  formulating  our  conclusions  we  will  note,  merely 
for  the  curiosity  of  the  fact,  a  singular  document  taken  from 
a  volume  printed  in  Rimini  in  1581,  by  Simbeni,  entitled 
//  Vermicello  della  seta,  signed  under  the  name  Giovanni 
Andrea  Corsucci  da  Sascorbaro,  and  cited  by  Luigi 
Tonini : 

"A  few  days  ago  in  the  church  of  Saint  Augustin,  in 
Rimini,  they  found  in  a  marble  sepulchre  Paolo  Malatesta 
and  Francesca,  daughter  of  Guido  da  Polenta,  lord  of  Ra- 
venna, who  were  put  to  death  by  Lancilotto,  son  of  Mala- 
testa, lord  of  Rimini,  brother  of  the  said  Paola  found 
under  the  accomplishment  of  a  dishonest  deed,  and  both 
miserably  killed  with  the  blows  of  a  poignard,  as  Petrarch 
describes  in  his  Triumph  of  Love.  Their  clothes  were  of 
silk,  and,  although,  they  had  been  shut  up  in  this  sepul- 
chre for  so  many  years,  they  were  found  in  a  perfect  state 
of  preservation." 

Upon  what  document  Sascorbaro  relies  for  this  statement 
no  one  can  say ;  there  was  no  inscription,  no  medal  and 
no  sign  whatever  that  could  certify  to  the  indentity  of  the 
skeletons ;  but  the  legend  was  evidently  established,  since 
Boccaccio  and  the  greater  number  of  chroniclers  had  said 
that  the  two  bodies  were  united  in  the  same  tomb.  The 
assertion  of  Sascorbaro,  deprived  of  all  proofs  as  it  is,  has 
come  to  confirm  the  opinion  of  the  Florentine  story-teller. 


ROCCA  MALATESTIANA 


359 


Rimini  persists  in  its  legend,  if  legend  it  is ;  and  I  also  dis- 
covered a  few  days  ago,  at  Gambalunghiana,  the  bit  of  silk 
tissued  with  gold,  and  placed  in  a  frame  upon  which  the 
erudite  son  of  Tonini,  successor  to  the  historian  of  Rimini, 
does  not  willingly  call  to  the  attention  of  learned  historians, 
because  history  desires  authentic  proofs ;  but  the  common 
people  view  with  great  pleasure  a  contemporary  relic  of 
Francesca  and  Paolo. 


THE  WARTBURG 

L.  PUTTICH 

THE  WARTBURG  lies  on  the  north-western  slope  of 
the  Thuringer  Forest  at  the  top  of  a  spur  that  com- 
mands an  extensive  view  over  the  fruitful  fields  and  woody 
Thuringian  ridges.  If  the  traveller  has  enjoyed  the  prospect 
during  the  ascent,  he  is  engrossed  by  other  feelings  as  soon 
as  he  has  passed  through  the  gateway  into  the  old  stronghold 
and  mentally  rehabilitates  the  entire  castle  as  it  was  in  days 
of  yore.  For  the  Wartburg  is  not  only  memorable  as  hav- 
ing been  the  abode  for  a  century  of  the  powerful  landgraves 
of  Thuringia  who  had  their  court  here  from  the  time  this 
hold  was  built  by  Ludwig  II.  at  the  end  of  the  Eleventh 
Century  (1080  A.  D.  is  usually  considered  the  year  of  its 
completion)  to  the  extinction  of  his  line  with  Heinrich 
Raspe  in  the  middle  of  the  Thirteenth  Century,  but  it  has 
also  acquired  a  classic  repute  in  German  history  by  three 
important  occurrences :  the  famous  Singer-war,  the  life  of 
Saint  Elizabeth,  and  Luther's  sojourn  here. 

The  Singer-war,  also  called  the  war  of  the  Wartburg, 
was  brought  about,  as  is  well  known,  by  the  Minnesong- 
enthusiast  landgrave,  Hermann  I.  and  his  art-loving  wife, 
Sophia.  In  1206,  they  assembled  six  of  the  most  celebrated 
Minnesingers, — Waiter  von  der  Vogelweide,  Heinrich  von 
Ofterdingen,  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  Heinrich  (the  vir- 


THE   WARTBURG,   GERMANY. 


THE  WARTBURG  361 

tuous  writer),  Johann  Bitterolff,  and  Reimer  von  Zwethin, 
partly  native  and  partly  foreign, — and  arranged  a  singing- 
contest  among  them.  Heinrich  von  Ofterdingen  sang  of 
the  knightly  qualities  of  the  Archduke  Leopold  II.  of 
Austria ;  Eschenbach  celebrated  the  fame  of  the  King  of 
France ;  and  Walter  von  der  Vogelweide,  the  preeminence 
of  the  landgrave  Hermann  ;  whilst  the  other  singers  ex- 
tolled other  princes.  But  this  gave  rise  to  a  serious  strife, 
and  the  irritated  contestants  agreed  (so  it  is  said)  that  the 
defeated  singer  should  die  by  the  executioner's  hand.  The 
landgrave  strongly  forbade  such  a  bargain  over  his  under- 
taking, but  nevertheless  when  Ofterdingen  was  declared  the 
loser,  the  protection  of  the  landgravine,  to  whom  he  fled, 
was  necessary  to  save  him  from  his  adversaries.  The 
landgrave  adjusted  the  quarrel  by  arranging  a  new  contest, 
to  which  Ofterdingen  had  to  fetch  from  Hungary  the 
world-famous  meistersinger,  Klingsor,  to  act  as  umpire. 
About  a  year  afterwards,  therefore,  the  latter  appeared  with 
Ofterdingen  and  the  contest  began  again.  Klingsor,  how- 
ever, would  not  decide  in  favour  of  any  one  singer,  but 
rather  sought  to  reconcile  the  parties.  In  this  he  was  suc- 
cessful, and  so  the  "  War  of  the  Wartburg  "  ended  in  feast- 
ing and  revels  which  the  landgrave  provided. 

Although  its  original  features  have  been  destroyed,  the 
Minnesinger  Hall  in  which  the  contest  took  place  still 
stands,  and  might  easily  be  restored  ;  but  fragments  of  the 
poems  of  the  Wartburg  war  are  preserved  in  the  Maneseichen, 
Docenschen,  and  other  collections.  It  has  been  held,  how- 
ever, and  not  without  good  grounds,  that  the  poems  still 


362  THE  WARTBURG 

extant  of  that  contest  were  first  collected  a  century  after  it 
was  held.  It  seems  certain,  nevertheless,  that  the  kernel 
of  the  matter  is  largely  contained  in  these  collections. 

Saint  Elizabeth,  the  daughter  of  King  Andrew  II.  of 
Hungary,  became  the  wife  of  the  landgrave  Ludwig  VI.,  the 
Pious,  in  1 22 1 ;  and  resided  at  the  Wartburg  with  him. 
She  was  a  model  of  simplicity,  piety  and  gentleness ;  and 
during  a  famine  and  accompanying  pestilence  that  ravaged 
Thuringia,  she  displayed  these  great  virtues  to  the  highest 
degree,  proving  herself  a  true  mother  of  her  country  by  her 
self-sacrifice  in  nursing  the  sick  and  dying. 

Luther  had  left  the  Diet  at  Worms  -,  he  had  been  out- 
lawed, and  the  safe-conduct  granted  to  him  by  the  Emperor 
Charles  V.  was  soon  about  to  lapse,  for  it  was  limited  to 
twenty-one  days.  His  friends  and  protectors  therefore 
feared  for  his  life,  and,  in  order  to  hide  him,  Luther  was 
snatched  up  by  masked  servants  while  passing  through  the 
Thuringer  Forest,  and  brought  to  the  Wartburg.  It  is 
scarcely  to  be  doubted  that  this  happened  by  the  contri- 
vance of  the  Kurfurst  Friedrich,  although  at  first  he  may 
have  avoided  all  knowledge  of  Luther's  retreat,  in  order  to 
be  able  to  meet  all  official  inquiries.  Luther  arrived  at  the 
Wartburg  in  May,  1521,  under  the  name  of  a  knight  Gorg. 
Here,  for  nearly  a  year,  he  lived  in  a  little  chamber,  in  a 
wing  to  the  right  of  the  chief  tower,  very  simply  adorned 
and  furnished  only  with  the  barest  necessaries.  It  still  ex- 
ists in  its  original  condition,  and  it  is  with  awe  that  the  vis- 
itor enters  the  little  abode  wherein  the  great  man  partly  ac- 
complished his  undying  work, — the  translation  of  the  Bible. 


THE  WARTBURG  363 

The  castle  chapel  in  the  landgrave's  quarters  still  contains 
the  pulpit  from  which  Luther  often  preached  to  the  in- 
mates. 

When  we  approach  the  castle  from  the  east,  where  the 
carriage  road  leading  from  the  town  of  Eisenach  first  winds 
through  a  wooded  valley  up  to  the  tree-clad  ridge,  the 
Wartburg  sits  enthroned  high  above  on  the  top  of  the 
mountain.  From  this  point  we  see  the  landgrave-abode, 
and  to  its  immediate  right  the  residence  built  in  1791,  and 
fortified  walls  stretching  to  the  gate-house,  or  knight-house 
(Ritterhaus). 

The  ridge  on  which  the  castle  extends  from  north  to 
south  is  long  and  narrow  and  of  very  irregular  form.  It 
was  formerly  entirely  covered  with  buildings  that  sur- 
rounded the  inner  courtyard.  The  single  main  entrance 
originally  consisted  of  three  or  four  gateways  constructed 
one  behind  another  with  intermediate  spaces,  on  the  north- 
east. The  outermost  of  these,  supplied  with  a  high  tower, 
stood  close  to  the  narrow  and  steep  approach  which  is  cut 
in  the  rock  and  leads  to  the  top  of  the  mount.  This  outer- 
most tower,  it  is  conjectured,  overhung  this  steep  path,  so 
that  in  case  of  attack  the  foe  might  be  more  easily  repelled. 
The  innermost  gateway,  which  led  into  the  stronghold 
itself,  is  the  only  one  now  standing.  Formerly  it  was  fur- 
nished with  a  drawbridge  which  recently  has  been  changed 
to  a  strong  bridge  of  stone.  Above  the  gateway,  rises  the 
so-called  Ritterhaus  (knight-house)  which  retains  evidences 
of  having  been  much  higher  formerly  than  it  now  is.  It 
probably  formed  the  tower-gate  which,  in  1558,  was  partly 


364  THE  WARTBURG 

demolished  and  brought  into  closer  relations  with  the  other 
buildings.  The  Ritterhaus  served  as  the  dwelling  of  the 
knights  whom  the  landgrave  assembled  about  him  for  the 
defence  of  the  castle  :  it  is  now  the  dwelling  of  the  Castellan. 
The  style  of  those  buildings  still  standing  shows  that  they 
belong  to  the  Fifteenth  Century,  and  only  the  lower  part 
of  the  walls  is  of  the  date  at  which  the  castle  was  founded, 
at  the  end  of  the  Eleventh  or  some  time  during  the 
Twelfth  Century.  The  relief  carved  on  the  wall  over  the 
gateway  also  belongs  to  the  same  date.  Its  meaning  can- 
not be  solved.  Popularly,  it  is  called  the  Jonah  ;  but  it 
represents  a  knight  about  to  be  devoured  by  a  dragon. 
The  coat-of-arms  hanging  at  the  knight's  neck  appears  to 
bear  the  imperial  eagle.  Another  perhaps  equally  ancient 
relief,  which  is  found  on  the  west  wall  not  far  from  the 
square  tower,  is  also  to  be  noted.  It  represents  a  man  sit- 
ting on  a  lion  and  tearing  its  jaws  apart :  it  refers  to  the 
fact  that  the  landgrave  Ludwig  the  Good  once  single- 
handed  bound  a  lion  that  his  father-in-law  had  sent 
to  him,  and  -that  had  escaped  from  its  cage  in  the  court- 
yard. 

Through  the  door  under  the  Ritterhaus,  we  enter  the 
courtyard  of  the  Wartburg,  and  see  to  the  west  one  of  the 
continuations  of  the  Ritterhaus.  Adjoining  this  to  the 
south,  are  other  buildings  ;  among  others,  that  containing 
Luther's  chamber.  On  the  left,  to  the  east,  runs  a  long 
high  wall  from  the  Ritterhaus  to  the  chief  building  standing 
on  that  side.  This  wall  is  covered  with  a  defence-way  of 
very  simple  form  resembling  those  still  occasionally  found 


THE  WARTBURG 


3^5 


in  old  city  walls.  The  first  chief  building  already  men- 
tioned on  that  side  was  formerly  called  the  Musshaus  (house 
of  ease  and  leisure).  Between  it  and  the  above-mentioned 
wall  at  the  end  of  the  courtyard,  was  originally  a  high  wall 
with  a  wide  doorway,  so  that  the  whole  rear  part  of  the 
castle,  the  residence  of  the  ruling  family,  was  separated 
from  the  front  part  where  the  knights  and  attendants  dwelt. 
According  to  ancient  report,  the  Musshaus  was  only  a  tall, 
plain  block,  though  the  interior  was  not  devoid  of  luxury, 
and  here  the  landgrave's  family  dwelt. 

Adjoining  the  south  side  of  the  Musshaus  was  the  Land- 
gravenhaus  (landgrave-house),  also  called  the  great  or  high 
house,  which  was  devoted  to  ceremonials  in  the  days  of  the 
landgraves.  It  is  a  stately  structure  that  originated  perhaps 
in  the  time  of  Ludwig  III.  in  the  middle  of  the  Twelfth 
Century.  In  Germany  it  stands  alone  as  a  princely  private 
building  of  such  dimensions  that  still  preserves  its  original 
form  in  the  Byzantine  or  Roman  style  of  architecture.  In 
these  respects,  there  is  no  ancestral  secular  building  that 
can  compare  with  it  abroad  also.  On  the  west,  it  is  con- 
nected with  the  Minnesinger  Hall  which  formerly  formed 
the  chief  entrance  to  the  above  hall  through  broad  win- 
dows, divided  up  into  round  arches  by  little  columns,  for  the 
other  three  sides  had  no  entrance.  The  columns  rest  upon 
a  low  sill,  so  that  people  can  look  between  them  into  the 
hall ;  so  that  it  is  to  be  presumed  that  the  passage  thus 
formed  was  intended  for  spectators.  The  little  columns 
are  ornamented  with  delicate  capitals  and  volutes.  They 
have  Attic  bases.  In  the  time  of  Friedrich  I.  this  hall  was 


366  THE  WARTBURG 

adorned  with  mural  paintings  of  battles  and  other  memora- 
ble occurrences  of  the  life  of  the  period.  Traces  of  these 
paintings  were  still  visible  at  the  beginning  of  the  present 
century. 


CHATEAU  D'AMBOISE 

JULES  LOISELEUR 

THE  Castle  of  Amboise  is  placed  at  the  entrance  of 
Touraine  like  the  jealous  sentinel  guarding  the  en- 
trance to  the  Garden  of  the  Hesperides.  It  is  not  a  palace 
like  the  castle  of  Blois,  nor  a  villa  of  a  royal  mistress  like 
Chenonceaux,  nor  a  sort  of  immense  convent  full  of  mys- 
terious cells  like  Chambord :  it  is  a  military  place,  a  verita- 
ble fortress  of  the  Middle  Ages  upon  which  is  grafted  a 
castle  of  the  Fifteenth  Century. 

This  formidable  military  position  has  been  at  all  times 
the  key  of  this  beautiful  province.  When  Caesar  marched 
against  the  Armoricans,  there  lodged  here  a  Roman  garri- 
son. From  the  height  of  these  impregnable  rocks,  the 
counts  of  Anjou,  and  later  the  Plantagenets,  their  descend- 
ants, these  worthy  sons  of  the  Black  Falcon  restrained 
within  their  talons  the  slightest  movements  of  Touraine, 
while  they  kept  a  jealous  watch  over  the  counts  of  Blois 
and  Champagne,  who  possessed  but  a  few  leagues  away  the 
sombre  fortress  of  Chaumont.  Amboise  and  Chaumont 
were  the  two  advanced  sentinels  of  these  two  impregnable 
neighbours.  These  solid  walls  served  under  Charles  VII. 
as  the  rampart  for  the  monarchy  menaced  by  the  English 
invasion  ;  they  protected  the  Catholic  royalty  of  Francis  II. 


368  CHATEAU  D'AMBOISE 

against  the  stroke  of  Renaudie ;  they  have  enclosed  turn 
by  turn  the  illustrious  victims  of  royal  ingratitude  like  the 
Marshall  de  Gie,  powerful  rebels  like  the  princes  of  Ven- 
dome,  accomplices  of  Chalais,  state  prisoners  like  Fouquet 
and  Lauzun,  and  the  vanquished  like  Abd-el-Kader.  When 
you  interrogate  these  enormous  towers,  these  menacing  bat- 
tlements, and  these  inaccessible  walls,  you  draw  from  them 
no  memories  of  joy,  peace,  or  love;  nothing  but  bloody 
deeds  spring  from  them;  nothing  but  memories  of  mourn- 
ing are  evoked. 

Buildings  have,  even  more  than  mankind,  their  own 
physiognomy  upon  which  their  history  is  reflected.  His- 
tory and  physiognomy  are  here  in  perfect  union.  No  ro- 
mancer, even  were  he  possessed  with  Melusine's  enchanted 
ring,  would  dare  to  place  an  intrigue  of  love  behind  these 
walls  impressed  with  deep  wounds  of  gun-shots,  or,  if  he 
did  so,  it  would  doubtless  be  on  account  of  that  law  of 
contrasts,  so  loved  of  Nature,  that  places  the  nests  of  the 
warbler  in  the  mouths  of  deserted  cannon. 

Stop  upon  this  old  bridge  constructed  by  Hugues  d'Am- 
boise,  one  of  the  heroes  of  Tasso.  From  here  you  will 
take  in  the  entire  imposing  and  truly  Roman  view  of  the 
powerful  citadel,  from  the  Gate  of  the  Lions,  which  opens 
upon  the  moat  dug  by  Caesar,  as  far  as  the  two  towers,  now 
decapitated,  of  the  ancient  donjon  above  the  trunks  of 
which  rises  the  slender  spire  of  the  Chapel  of  St.  Hubert. 
Remove  by  imagination  the  narrow  and  common  dwellings 
that  encroach  upon  the  old  castle.  Throw  into  the  Loire 
the  modern  levee  and  quay  that  obstruct  it  here,  and  picture 


CHATEAU  D'AMBOISE  369 

the  noble  river  freely  beating  the  base  of  the  fortress.  The 
great  tower  erected  by  Charles  VIII.  casts  its  shadow  upon 
the  Loire,  on  which  opens  a  door  that  forms  on  this  side 
the  only  entrance  to  the  castle.  Further  back,  and  as  if 
lost  in  the  shadow  of  the  immense  tower,  is  the  principal 
building  of  this  habitation,  the  base  of  which  dates  from 
the  counts  of  Amboise  and  whose  five  windows  pierced  at 
a  considerable  height  on  the  side  overlooking  the  Loire, 
although  they  are  on  the  ground  floor  on  the  side  of  the 
court,  seem  like  vigilant  eyes  upon  the  country.  Then 
by  mental  effort  throw  down  the  terrace  in  front  of  these 
windows,  the  work  of  Louis-Philippe,  who  caused  this 
facade  to  lose  some  of  its  crabbed  countenance ;  close  up 
the  five  rounded  bay  windows,  also  the  work  of  the  same 
King,  which  light  the  kitchens  ;  in  a  word,  leave  noth- 
ing that  juts  out  upon  that  straight  and  perpendicular  facade 
except  the  balcony  that  overhangs  the  five  casements  of 
which  we  shall  speak,  and  upon  which  open  the  large  win- 
dows of  the  royal  apartment.  You  will  then  have  an  ap- 
proximate idea  of  what  Amboise  was  in  the  time  of  Henri 
III.,  when  Du  Cerceau  conceived  the  plan  in  157 

This  balcony  from  which  you  look  upon  the  Loire,  is  the 
work  of  Louis  XII. :  it  is  an  historical  monument.  Noth- 
ing could  be  less  complicated,  nothing  could  be  more  for- 
midable in  its  simplicity.  It  was  upon  this  balcony  that  the 
chief  ringleaders  of  the  conspiracy  against  Amboise  were 
hanged.  The  bodies,  attached  to  these  solid  bars,  hung  in 
the  open  air;  the  stroke  of  a  poignard  cut  the  rope  and 
they  fell  into  the  Loire  :  a  means  of  burial  as  rapid  as  had 


370  CHATEAU  D'AMBOISE 

been  the  judgment  and  the  execution.  Such  is  the  Castle 
of  Amboise  seen  from  the  Loire. 

The  tunnel,  the  stairway,  and  even  the  vault  are  modern 
works,  which  in  moulding  this  old  castle  to  our  ideas  of 
comfort  deprive  it  of  its  feudal  character.  It  is  by  the 
southern  tower  that  we  must  ascend  if  we  wish  to  be 
deeply  impressed  by  this  character.  In  the  time  of  Charles 
VIII.,  this  tower  was  the  only  entrance  for  knights  and  lit- 
ters, for  the  one  on  the  north  corresponding  to  it  bathes  its 
foot  in  the  Loire,  as  we  have  said.  It  was  through  the 
southern  tower  that  Charles  V.  entered  when  he  crossed 
France  in  1539.  This  solid  and  immovable  work  is  cer- 
tainly the  largest  construction  of  the  kind  in  France.  The 
thick  masonry  that  forms  the  nucleus  of  it  is  in  itself  a 
respectable  size.  The  stairway  turns  four  times  from  the 
base  to  the  summit  around  this  hollowed-out  centre,  and 
reaches  a  height  of  more  than  600  feet. 

This  stairway,  or  rather  these  steps  in  helix,  rest  upon 
an  ogival  vault.  Carvings  sustain  the  points  from  which 
the  large  arches  spring  and  terminate  the  nerves  of  the  lit- 
tle arches.  These  carvings  present  all  kinds  of  little  fig- 
ures, some  of  which  are  fantastic,  others  grotesque,  and 
others  again  indecent,  for  the  artists  of  the  late  Gothic 
period  were  willing  enough  to  execute  the  latter  to  please 
their  patrons  who  enjoyed  these  grotesques  and  the  laughter 
they  caused  far  more  than  fine  arabesques.  Monks  abound 
in  these  sculptures.  This  one  holds  his  stomach  in  both 
hands,  like  a  gastronome  punished  by  his  exploits  ;  this  one, 
suffering  from  a  terrible  toothache,  makes  a  grimace  like 


CHATEAU  D'AMBOISE  371 

one  possessed.  Most  of  these  figures  have  been  mutilated 
with  blows  of  the  bayonet  by  the  prisoners  who  for  about 
fifteen  years  were  shut  up  in  this  tower  in  1815.  Louis- 
Philippe  began  its  restoration. 

About  one-third  of  the  way  up,  a  little  stone  step,  pierced 
in  the  outer  wall,  leads  to  a  kind  of  hollowed-out  rostrum, 
where,  if  we  may  believe  tradition,  Louis  XII.  harangued 
the  multitude,  when  an  attack  on  the  municipal  franchise 
aroused  the  inhabitants  of  the  town  of  Amboise,  or  Petit- 
Fort.  Happy  time !  when  revolutionary  uprisings  could 
be  calmed  by  orations  ! 

At  the  top  of  this  tower  you  see  the  gigantic  horns  of  a 
stag  that  formerly  ornamented  the  base  of  the  Chapel  of 
Saint  Hubert.  This  is  more  than  ten  feet  high,  and  was 
made  at  the  order  of  Charles  VIII.  with  such  art  and  truth- 
fulness of  imitation  that  allows  the  guide  to  show  it  to  un- 
sophisticated tourists  for  the  natural  horns  of  a  full-grown 
and  gigantic  stag  killed  in  some  forest  in  the  Brobdinagian 
country. 

The  donjon,  the  first  dwelling  of  the  lords  of  Amboise, 
occupied  the  west,  the  space  comprised  between  the  two 
little  headless  towers  which  still  exist. 

On  the  side  of  the  Loire,  opposite  the  building  of  the 
Sept-Vertues,  there  rise  other  buildings  belonging  to  Am- 
boise, but  they  were  restored  by  Charles  VIII.  and  com- 
pletely changed  by  Louis  XII.  and  Francis  I.  There  are 
to  be  found  the  apartment  of  the  King  and  Queen,  due  to 
the  last  prince,  and,  close  beside  it,  that  curious  chamber 
which  was  supported  by  four  massive  pillars  of  masonry, 


372  CHATEAU  D'AMBOISE 

and  to  which  no  entrance  was  possible  except  by  a  single 
opening  pierced  through  the  floor.  This  was  the  work  of 
Catharine  de'Medici,  after  one  of  her  astrologers  had  fore- 
warned her  of  the  fall  of  a  great  edifice.  She  thought  that, 
by  means  of  these  material  precautions,  she  could  escape  the 
menace  of  Fortune  which  allowed  her  to  see  the  fall  of 
quite  a  different  edifice  to  Amboise :  that  of  the  Valois 
dynasty,  so  laboriously  restored  by  her  efforts. 

The  chapel  is  the  perfect  antithesis  of  the  castle. 

Just  as  the  one  is  sombre,  severe,  dominating  and  sinis- 
trously  beautiful,  on  account  of  its  mass  and  size,  the  other 
is  bright,  efflorescent,  and  smiling,  delicately  embroidered 
and  pierced  like  lace. 

This  charming  chapel,  proudly  encamped  upon  a  rocky 
peak,  is  one  of  the  best  products  of  the  third  ogival  style  of 
that  period  of  Flamboyant  Gothic  that  immediately  pre- 
ceded the  Renaissance.  But  it  is  not,  as  has  been  believed 
until  now,  the  work  of  Italian  artists  brought  from  Naples 
by  Charles  VIII.  That  is  an  error  in  which  even  M.  Jules 
Quicherat  shared,  but  which  was  obliterated  at  the  recent 
discovery  of  an  itemized  account  of  all  the  expenses  of 
furnishing  and  decorating  the  Chapel  of  Amboise  and  for 
the  contiguous  apartments  in  the  towers.  This  precious 
document  states  that  the  expenses  commenced  in  1490  and 
continued  until  1494.  Now  the  year  1494,  in  which 
Charles  VIII.  finished  ornamenting  and  furnishing  the 
Chapel  of  Amboise,  is  precisely  the  one  in  which  he 
started  on  his  expedition  to  Italy.  The  honour  of  this 
charming  conception  then  reverts  wholly  to  native  artists. 


CHATEAU  D'AMBOISE 

The  facade  is  entirely  occupied  by  a  large  ogival  en- 
trance, the  top  of  which  presents  one  of  those  great,  circu- 
lar rose-windows, — the  characteristic  sign  of  the  Flamboy- 
ant Gothic.  An  authority  no  less  exact  for  the  construc- 
tion of  this  facade  is  shown  in  the  form  of  the  two  doors 
cut  in  the  entrance,  these  showing  that  surbased  arch  so 
common  in  the  English  buildings  of  the  reigns  of  Henry 
VII.  and  Henry  VIII.,  and  which  derives  from  them  the 
name  of  the  Tudor  arch.  These  two  doors,  separated  by 
a  pilaster  and  niche,  support  a  stone  bas-relief,  the  principal 
motive  of  which  is  the  conversion  of  Saint  Hubert. 

A  gigantic  stag  stands  in  the  centre  of  the  composition. 
Between  his  horns  there  rises  a  flamboyant  cross.  The 
ardent  huntsman  stops  in  terror  at  this  sight,  he  bends  one 
knee,  and  with  one  hand  restrains  his  horse,  while  with  the 
other  he  salutes  the  miraculous  sign  destined  to  convert  him 
to  Christianity  :  instead  of  the  Aquitaine  Nimrod,  the  per- 
secutor of  the  forests  of  Ardennes,  he  is  only  an  apostle, 
the  successor  of  Saint  Lambert.  A  host  of  wild  animals 
form  the  accessories  of  this  picture,  as  if  the  entire  popula- 
tion of  the  forests  is  taking  part  in  the  conversion  of  the 
patron  of  huntsmen.  Saint  Anthony,  in  a  corner  to  the  left, 
contemplates  Saint  Christopher  bearing  his  divine  burden. 

This  bas-relief,  somewhat  clumsy  in  workmanship,  does 
not  give  the  slightest  idea  of  the  charming  delicacy  of  the 
interior.  The  banal  and  rather  strained  comparison  of  lace 
woven  by  the  fays,  is  more  than  a  truthful  one  here.  Im- 
agine two  rows  of  point  d1  Alen^on,  half  a  metre  high,  fes- 
tooned the  entire  length  of  the  walls  to  form  a  series  of 


374  CHATEAU  D'AMBOISE 

canopies  and  niches  in  corbelling,  diversified  by  graceful 
little  columns  with  prismatic  arches.  Carvings  and  figures, 
inexhaustible  in  variety,  terminate  the  pendentives  of  these 
niches.  Not  one  of  these  motives  is  repeated  a  second 
time  :  vine  leaves,  acanthus  leaves,  holly  leaves,  oak  leaves, 
cabbage  leaves,  and  thistle  leaves, — the  entire  architectural 
flora  of  the  Fifteenth  Century  is  here  under  our  eyes  min- 
gled with  a  host  of  real  and  fantastic  animals.  There  are 
also  some  human  figures :  a  little  monk  in  a  corner  by  the 
side  of  the  altar  blows  the  trumpet  in  a  whimsical  manner, 
exactly  like  the  one  that  serves  for  a  reading-desk  in  the 
Temptation  by  Callot. 

Upon  this  profusion  of  lace,  of  foliage,  of  crockets,  and 
stags'  horns,  upon  this  mass  of  curled  leaves,  pinked  leaves, 
and  leaves  turned  and  twisted  in  a  hundred  fashions,  there 
falls  a  glowing  light,  sifted  through  the  windows,  where 
vermilion,  orpiment  and  ultra-marine  are  the  dominating 
colours.  These  windows,  upon  which  saints  are  repre- 
sented in  life-size,  were  made  in  Sevres,  some  of  them  after 
the  designs  of  the  Princess  Marie  d'Orleans.  Perhaps 
there  is  a  slight  false  note  in  the  selection  of  these  strong 
colours.  Light  tones  and  yellowish  and  whitish  tints  were 
generally  preferred  at  the  end  of  the  Fifteenth  Century. 
It  was  this  gradual  abandoning  of  colour  that  fifty  years 
later  engendered  the  grisailles. 

Before  it  was  restored  by  Louis-Philippe,  this  church  had 
been  used  for  twenty  years  as  the  hall  for  the  castle's  po- 
lice. One  may  judge  by  that  alone  of  the  seriousness  of 
the  mutilations. 


BLARNEY  CASTLE 

MR.  AND  MRS.   S.   C.  HALL 

FEW  places  in  Ireland  are  more  familiar  to  English  ears 
than  Blarney ;  the  notoriety  is  attributable,  first,  to 
the  marvellous  qualities  of  its  famous  "  stone,"  and  next, 
to  the  extensive  popularity  of  the  song, — 

"  The  groves  of  Blarney,  they  are  so  charming." 

When  or  how  the  stone  obtained  its  singular  reputation, 
it  is  difficult  to  determine ;  the  exact  position  among  the 
ruins  of  the  castle  is  also  a  matter  of  doubt ;  the  peasant- 
guides  humour  the  visitor  according  to  his  capacity  for 
climbing,  and  direct,  either  to  the  summit  or  the  base,  the 
attention  of  him  who  desires  to  "  greet  it  with  a  holy  kiss." 
He  who  has  been  dipped  in  the  Shannon  is  presumed  to 
have  obtained,  in  abundance,  the  gift  of  that  "  civil  cour- 
age "  which  makes  an  Irishman  at  ease  and  unconstrained 

o 

in  all  places  and  under  all  circumstances ;  and  he  who  has 
kissed  the  Blarney  stone  is  assumed  to  be  endowed  with  a 
fluent  and  persuasive  tongue,  although  it  may  be  associated 
with  insincerity  ;  the  term  "  Blarney  "  being  generally  used 
to  characterize  words  that  are  meant  neither  to  be  "  honest 
nor  true."  It  is  conjectured  that  the  comparatively  mod- 
ern application  of  the  term  "  Blarney  "  first  had  existence 
when  the  possessor,  Lord  Clancarty,  was  a  prisoner  to  Sir 
George  Carew,  by  whom  he  was  subjected  to  several  ex- 
aminations touching  his  loyalty,  which  he  was  required  to 


376 


BLARNEY  CASTLE 


prove  by  surrendering  his  strong  castle  to  the  soldiers  of 
the  Queen  ;  this  bet  he  always  endeavoured  to  evade  by 
some  plausible  excuse,  but  as  invariably  professing  his  will- 
ingness to  do  so.  The  particulars  are  fully  detailed  in  the 
"Pacata  Hibernia." 

It  is  certain  that  to  no  particular  stone  of  the  ancient 
structure  is  the  marvellous  quality  exclusively  attributed ; 
but  in  order  to  make  it  as  difficult  as  possible  to  attain  the 
enviable  gift,  it  had  long  been  the  custom  to  point  out  a 
stone,  a  few  feet  below  the  battlements,  which  the  very 
daring  only  would  run  the  hazard  of  touching  with  their 
lips.  The  attempt  to  do  so  was,  indeed,  so  dangerous,  that 
a  few  years  ago  Mr.  Jeffreys  had  it  removed  from  the  wall 
and  placed  on  the  highest  point  of  the  building,  where  the 
visitor  may  now  greet  it  with  little  risk.  It  is  about  two 
feet  square,  and  contains  the  date  1703,  with  a  portion  of 
the  arms  of  the  Jeffreys  family,  but  the  date,  at  once,  nega- 
tives its  claim  to  be  considered  the  true  marvel  of  Blarney.1 
A  few  days  before  our  visit  a  madman  made  his  way  to  the 
top  of  the  castle,  and  after  dancing  around  it  for  some 
hours,  his  escape  from  death  being  almost  miraculous,  he 
flung  this  stone  from  the  tower;  it  was  broken  in  the  fall, 
and  now  as  the  guide  stated  to  us,  the  "three  halves"  must 
receive  three  distinct  kisses  to  be  in  any  degree  effective. 

1  The  Rev.  Matthew  Morgan,  the  parish  priest  of  Blarney,  informs  us 
that  "  the  curious  traveller  will  seek  in  vain  for  the  real  stone,  unless  he 
allows  himself  to  be  lowered  from  the  northern  angle  of  the  lofty  castle, 
when  he  will  discover  it  about  twenty  feet  from  the  top  with  this  inscrip- 
tion : — 

Cormac  MacCarthy  Fortis, 

Me  Fieri  Fecit.     A.  u.,  1446." 


BLARNEY  CASTLE 


377 


The  age  of  the  song  has  been  satisfactorily  ascertained ; 
it  was  written  in  the  year  1798  or  1799,  by  Richard  Alfred 
Millikin,  an  attorney  of  Cork.  The  author  little  antici- 
pated the  celebrity  his  lines  were  destined  to  acquire ;  they 
were  composed  to  ridicule  the  nonsense  verses  of  the  vil- 
lage poets,  who,  with  a  limited  knowledge  of  the  English 
language,  and  a  smattering  of  classical  names,  were  in  the 
habit  of  indulging  their  still  more  ignorant  auditors,  by 
stringing  together  sounds  that  had  no  sense,  but  conveyed  a 
notion  of  the  prodigious  learning  of  the  singer. 

Millikin's  song  has  been  injurious  to  Ireland ;  it  has 
raised  many  a  laugh  at  Ireland's  expense,  and  contributed 
largely  to  aid  the  artist  and  the  actor,  of  gone-by  times,  in 
exhibiting  the  Irishman  as  little  better  than  a  buffoon- 
very  amusing,  no  doubt,  but  exciting  any  feeling  rather 
than  that  of  respect. 

It  is  impossible  to  contemplate  the  romantic  ruins  of 
Blarney  Castle  without  a  feeling  more  akin  to  melancholy 
than  to  pleasure ;  they  bear,  so  perfectly,  the  aspect  of 
strength  utterly  subdued,  and  remind  one  so  forcibly  that 
the  "  glory  "  of  Ireland  belongs  to  days  departed.  The 
castle  stands  — 

"  as  stands  a  lofty  mind, 
Worn,  but  unstooping  to  the  baser  crowd, 
All  tenantless,  save  to  the  crannying  wind." 

The  stronghold  of  Blarney  was  erected  about  the  middle 
of  the  Fifteenth  Century  by  Cormac  MacCarthy,  surnamed 
"Laider,"  or  the  Strong;  whose  ancestors  had  been  chief- 
tains in  Munster  from  a  period  long  antecedent  to  the  Eng- 


378 


BLARNEY  CASTLE 


lish  invasion,  and  whose  descendants,  as  Lords  of  Muskerry 
and  Clancarty,  retained  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  their 
power  and  estates  until  the  year  1689,  when  their  immense 
possessions  were  confiscated,  and  the  last  earl  became  an 
exile,  like  the  monarch  whose  cause  he  had  supported.  The 
castle,  village,  mills,  fairs,  and  customs  of  Blarney,  with  the 
land  and  park  thereunto  belonging,  containing  1400  acres, 
were  "set  up  by  cant"  in  the  year  1702,  purchased  by 
Sir  Richard  Pyne,  Lord  Chief  Justice,  for  ^"3,000,  and  by 
him  disposed  of,  the  following  year,  to  General  Sir  James 
Jeffreys,  in  whose  family  'the  property  continues.  Al- 
though the  walls  of  this  castle  are  still  strong,  many  of  the 
outworks  have  long  since  been  levelled  with  the  earth ;  the 
plough  has  passed  over  their  foundations,  and  "  the  stones 
of  which  they  were  built  have  been  used  in  repairing  the 
turnpike-roads." 

The  small  village  of  Blarney  is  about  four  miles  north- 
west of  Cork ;  a  few  years  ago  it  was  remarkably  clean, 
neat,  and  thriving ;  its  prosperity  having  resulted  from  the 
establishment  of  several  linen  and  cotton  factories,  the 
whole  of  which  have  been  swept  away,  and  the  hamlet  is 
now,  like  the  castle,  an  assemblage  of  ruins.  In  the 
vicinity,  however,  there  is  yet  a  woollen-manufactory  and  a 
paper-mill,  both  in  full  work.  The  scenery  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood is  agreeable,  but  the  grounds  that  immediately  sur- 
round the  castle  are  of  exceeding  beauty.  Nature  has  done 
much  more  for  them  than  art;  although  there  is  evidence 
that  the  hand  of  taste  had  busied  itself  in  the  duty  of  im- 
provement. "  The  sweet  Rock-close  "  is  a  small  dell,  in 


BLARNEY  CASTLE 


379 


which  evergreens  grow  luxuriantly,  completely  shaded  with 
magnificent  trees.  At  its  termination,  are  the  "  Witches' 
Stairs  "  ;  a  series  of  rugged  stone  steps  which  lead  down 
through  a  passage  in  the  rock  to  a  delicious  spot  of  green- 
sward forming  the  bank  of  a  clear  rivulet — and  where  some 
singular  masses  appear  to  have  been  "  the  work  of  Druid 
hands  of  old." 


CHATEAU  DE  LOCHES 
J.  J.  BOURRASSEE 

THE  traveller  who  visits  Loches  for  the  first  time  is 
greatly  struck  by  the  picturesque  position  of  the 
town  on  an  elevation^-gently  sloping  down  to  the  meadows 
watered  by  the  Indre.  Above  the  houses  rise  the  turrets 
of  the  castle,  which  in  turn  are  dominated  by  the  pyramids 
of  the  old  collegiate  church  of  Our  Lady,  above  which 
again  appears  the  ancient  mediaeval  fortress  in  its  somewhat 
austere  majesty.  The  combination  forms  an  enchanting 
view  seen  under  the  first  beams  of  the  rising  sun  from  the 
edge  of  the  forest  on  the  Montresor  road. 

About  the  beginning  of  the  Sixth  Century,  St.  Ours 
came  to  Touraine  to  settle  at  Loches.  There  several 
monks  placed  themselves  under  his  discipline.  The  mon- 
astery of  St.  Ours  made  a  town  of  Loches.  As  has  often 
been  remarked,  the  people  of  the  country  like  to  group 
around  these  religious  houses  where  they  find  at  the  same 
time  a  church  with  its  spiritual  aid,  a  refuge  always  open 
against  the  persecution  of  the  mighty,  a  school,  a  hospital, 
and  a  model  farm  with  its  agricultural  and  industrial  in- 
struction. In  a  few  years  the  collection  became  sufficiently 
important  for  the  establishment  of  a  castrum.  This  strong 
castle,  which  was  already  in  existence  at  the  time  of 
Gregory  of  Tours,  was  placed  in  a  position  that  was  very 


CHATEAU  DE  LOCHES  381 

easy  to  defend  :  it  was  protected  on  one  side  by  that  elbow 
of  the  mountain  to  which  St.  Ours  had  retired  and  by  the 
escarpment  towards  the  Indre,  a  flank  that  was  rendered  al- 
most inaccessible  by  the  river  and  the  valley  marshes  ;  on  an- 
other, by  the  natural  depression  of  the  vale  of  Mazerolles ; 
and,  on  the  third,  by  a  deep  and  wide  cutting  in  the  chalky 
tufa.  The  castle  which  crowned  the  hill  and  commanded 
the  surrounding  country  was  so  strong  for  that  age  that  all 
conquerors  contended  for  its  possession. 

After  the  Romans,  we  find  the  Visigoths  here,  and  then 
the  Merovingian  princes,  the  feudal  lords,  the  counts  of 
Anjou  and  Touraine  who  became  kings  of  England  and 
the  kings  of  France  after  Philip  Augustus.  At  the  foot  of 
the  ancient  castle  of  Loches,  a  hundred  fights  of  chivalry 
were  settled.  Under  the  feudal  rule,  the  surrounding  fields 
were  thronged  with  bands  of  men  marching  under  various 
banners. 

The  counts  of  Anjou,  whose  ambition  was  the  scourge 
of  our  province,  had  become  masters  of  Loches,  thanks  to 
skilfully  calculated  matrimonial  alliances.  The  citadel  of 
Loches  became  the  boulevard  of  their  warlike  enterprises 
in  the  Eleventh  and  Twelfth  Centuries. 

The  Eleventh  Century  fortress,  whose  square  donjon 
commands  the  surrounding  country,  is  not  so  well  preserved 
as  the  collegiate  church.  Nevertheless,  the  learned  who 
study  our  national  antiquities  consider  it  one  of  the  most 
precious  remains  of  the  military  architecture  of  that  remote 
age.  Picture  to  yourself  an  imposing  mass,  formed  of  two 
bodies  of  buildings  shoulder  to  shoulder  rising  to  a  height 


382  CHATEAU  DE  LOCHES 

of  forty  metres.  The  principal  building  is  25  m.  33  cm. 
long  while  the  other  attains  only  half  this  length.  The 
interior  disposition  of  the  small  tower  is  visible  at  the  first 
glance  on  account  of  the  disappearance  of  the  floors  that 
formerly  divided  it  into  four  stories.  In  the  lower  portion 
is  a  low  hall  from  which  rose  a  stairway  of  from  thirty-five 
to  forty  steps,  with  two  landings,  by  which  to  reach  the 
principal  rooms.  At  the  top  of  this  stairway  is  the  door 
that  gave  access  to  every  part  of  the  donjon.  On  the  first 
story,  it  opens  into  a  hall  of  the  great  tower,  the  dimen- 
sions of  which  are  so  vast  that  it  could  contain  five  hun- 
dred men ;  then,  at  the  same  level,  into  the  corresponding 
hall  of  the  little  tower;  and  lastly  by  a  secret  passage, 
twenty-four  metres  in  length,  hidden  in  the  thickness  of  the 
wall,  one  could  descend  to  the  vaulted  hall  that  occupied 
the  base  of  the  donjon,  and  that  served  as  an  arsenal,  a 
treasury  and  a  prison.  Three  flights  of  steps,  at  present 
interrupted  and  set  in  the  interior  of  the  walls,  led  to  the 
upper  stories.  The  donjon  probably  terminated  in  an 
exterior  wooden  gallery  resting  on  a  movable  scaffolding 
intended  for  repulsing  assaults ;  the  numerous  holes  to  be 
seen  at  the  top  of  the  wall  authorize  this  supposition. 

Thus  established,  the  Roman  donjon  of  Loches  is  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  monuments  of  its  kind.  The 
beauty  of  its  size,  the  masterly  skill  of  its  construction,  the 
imposing  amplitude  of  its  mass,  half  disguised  by  round 
buttresses  that  rise  to  the  summit,  the  artifice  of  its  military 
dispositions,  the  ingenious  multiplicity  of  its  defences,  the 
boldness  of  its  outline,  and  the  proud  aspect  of  the  whole, 


CHATEAU  DE  LOCHES  383 

all  recommend  it  to  the  attention  of  the  antiquary  and  the 
artist.  To-day  it  is  of  no  military  importance ;  but  for  the 
town  of  Loches  it  will  ever  constitute  a  picturesque  ele- 
ment of  the  first  order. 

In  1 194,  Richard  Cceur-de-Lion,  being  delivered  from  the 
prison  in  which  he  was  unjustly  kept  by  the  Emperor  of  Ger- 
many, made  haste  to  Touraine,  his  possession  of  which  was 
being  disputed  by  Philip  Augustus.  Nothing  could  moder- 
ate his  boiling  heat.  After  having  captured  and  ransomed 
Chateauneuf  de  Tours,  the  King  of  England  hastened  to 
Loches.  The  castle  was  defended  by  twenty  knights  and 
eighty  archers  under  the  command  of  Guy  de  Laval.  The 
governor  at  first  defended  himself  resolutely  enough ;  but 
Richard  attacked  the  place  with  such  fury,  and  himself 
directed  the  assault  with  such  energy,  that  it  was  necessary 
to  yield.  Guy  de  Laval  was  made  prisoner  with  some  of 
his  most  intrepid  knights.  But  the  struggle  was  far  from 
being  ended  :  it  only  slumbered  for  a  few  years.  Richard, 
wounded  at  the  siege  of  Chaluz,  in  Limousin,  died  at  Chi- 
non  at  the  age  of  forty-two,  April  6,  1199.  He  was 
buried  at  Fontevrault,  leaving  behind  a  troubled  and  more 
especially  a  greatly  disputed  heritage.  Queen  Berengaria, 
his  wife,  received  Loches  and  Montbazon  with  their 
domains  and  dependencies  as  her  dowry. 

In  1204,  we  see  Philip  Augustus  reappear  in  Touraine. 
In  consequence  of  the  confiscation  pronounced  against 
John  Lackland,  the  King  of  France  himself  came  to  take 
possession  of  the  principal  places  and  towns  in  the  prov- 
ince. Tours  opened  her  gates  at  the  first  summons. 


384  CHATEAU  DE  LOCHES 

Loches  did  not  show  herself  so  obliging.  The  castle  was 
defended  by  Girard  d'Athee  and  other  lords  devoted  to  the 
interests  of  England. 

It  was  necessary  to  lay  a  regular  siege.  After  a  year  of 
struggle  and  toil,  the  place  was  forced  to  capitulate  on  ac- 
count of  the  failure  of  provisions  and  ammunition.  Philip 
Augustus  gave  it  in  recompense  to  Dreux  de  Mello,  con- 
stable of  France,  a  brave  knight,  celebrated  for  his  exploits 
in  France  and  Palestine,  whither  he  had  accompanied  the 
King.  Afterwards  this  gift  was  bought  back  by  St.  Louis, 
by  an  act  dated  December,  1249,  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile 
in  Egypt. 

On  returning  to  France,  St.  Louis  spent  several  days  at 
Loches.  In  1301  and  1307,  Philippe  le  Bel  rested  eight 
days  at  the  castle  of  Loches  on  his  way  to  talk  to  Pope 
Clement  V.  about  the  affair  of  the  Templars.  Half  a 
century  later,  John  II.  arrived  at  Loches  at  the  head  of  the 
flower  of  French  chivalry  on  his  way  to  Poictiers  to 
give  battle  to  the  Black  Prince.  Fortune  appeared  to  be 
smiling  upon  him  and  victory  seemed  to  be  assured ;  but 
instead  of  accepting  the  advantageous  propositions  made  by 
his  adversary,  he  wanted  to  crush  the  army  of  the  foe.  He 
then  fell  victim  to  one  of  those  disasters  that  leave  a  long 
and  sad  echo  in  history.  The  evils  that  overwhelmed 
France  were  horrible.  Anarchy  was  complete,  and  reigned 
in  every  rank  of  the  hierarchy.  The  English  re-took 
Loches,  and  for  more  than  half-a-century  the  foreigner 
trampled  on  and  desolated  our  provinces. 

At    length    came   Charles   VII.     When  he  first  visited 


CHATEAU  DE  LOCHES  385 

Loches,  he  was  still  only  the  King  of  Bourges.  A  poor 
suite  followed  him ;  but  he  was  accompanied  by  Marie 
d'Anjou,  a  princess  of  rare  prudence  and  a  courage  proof 
against  everything.  This  virtuous  queen  was  France's 
good  genius.  In  spite  of  the  miseries  of  the  time,  she 
never  despaired  of  her  country.  Her  confidence  was  not 
deceived  :  Joan  of  Arc  soon  accomplished  her  glorious  mis- 
sion :  France  was  saved. 

In  1436,  Charles  VII.  reappeared  at  Loches;  but  this 
time  the  queen  was  not  alone.  In  her  company  was  a 
young  girl  whose  timidity  seemed  to  recommend  her,  but 
whose  position  was  no  mystery  to  anybody  :  she  was  Agnes 
Sorel,  born  in  the  village  of  Fromenteau  in  Touraine. 
Charles  VII.  gave  her  the  castle  of  Beaute  in  Champagne, 
it  is  said,  so  that  she  might  be  Dame  de  Beaute  by  title  as 
well  as  in  reality.  Agnes  possessed  a  small  house  at 
Beaulieu  where  she  sometimes  stayed  to  hide  herself  from 
the  eyes  of  the  courtiers.  So  the  King  had  the  tower  built 
at  the  Castle  of  Loches  that  still  bears  the  name  of  Agnes 
Sorel.  This  tower  stands  in  a  delightful  spot:  it  com- 
mands the  smiling  vale  of  the  Indre,  and  from  it  the  view 
embraces  a  charming  panorama.  The  eye  is  arrested  by  a 
curtain  of  verdure  formed  by  the  ancient  oaks  of  the  forest 
and  then  wanders  with  pleasure  over  the  freshest  meadows 
imaginable.  Agnes  Sorel  is  in  the  choir  of  the  church  at 
Loches.  Her  white  marble  tomb,  with  her  statue  also  of 
white  marble,  the  feet  resting  on  two  little  lambs  and  hands 
clasped,  is  now  to  be  seen  in  the  castle  tower  that  bears  her 
name. 


386  CHATEAU  DE  LOCHES 

The  strong  position  of  the  castle  of  Loches  gained  for  it 
at  an  early  date  the  sad  honour  of  becoming  a  state  prison. 
Behind  its  beautiful  and  solid  walls,  great  lords  came  to  ex- 
piate their  ambitious  intrigues,  or  the  simple  misfortune  of 
having  displeased  those  more  powerful  than  themselves. 
Geoffroy  de  Saint-Aignan  was  shut  up  here  and  strangled 
in  the  Eleventh  Century ;  Thibault,  Count  of  Tours,  suf- 
fered the  severest  treatment  here  after  his  defeat  at  Nouy  ; 
and  John,  Duke  of  Alencon,  was  cast  into  a  deep  cell  here 
by  order  of  Charles  VII.  for  having  aided  an  ungrateful 
son  in  his  attempts  at  rebellion,  a  son  who  was  always 
ready  to  foment  trouble  in  the  realm.  But  it  was  Louis 

XI.  who  made  the  most  frequent  use  of  the  Loches  cells. 
Charles  VIII.  often  inhabited  the  castle  during  his  early 

youth.  Charlotte  of  Savoy,  his  mother,  was  treated  in  it 
almost  like  a  prisoner  by  the  suspicious  Louis  XL,  who 
never  exhibited  a  very  lively  friendship  for  his  wife.  On 
his  accession,  Charles  did  not  forget  Loches ;  he  began  the 
great  tower  that  was  completed  by  his  successor,  and  he 
took  his  graceful  wife,  Anne  of  Brittany,  thither.  Louis 

XII.  constructed  the  building  that  connects  the  round  with 
the  square  tower.     In  this  is  found  the  low  room  in  which 
Louis    le    More  was   confined    in    1505.     The   Duke  of 
Milan  spent  several  years  in  his  prison  at  Loches,  in  a  truly 
sinister  cell. 

The  soldier  became  an  artist,  and  on  the  sombre  walls  of 
his  cell  he  laid  a  strange  and  original  composition,  full  of 
grandeur  and  character.  Over  the  chimney-piece  he  placed 
his  portrait,  more  than  life  size,  with  casque  on  head  as  on 


CHATEAU  DE  LOCHES  387 

the  day  of  battle,  and  vizor  raised.  The  energetic  features 
of  this  profile,  the  aquiline  nose,  prominent  chin  and  upper 
lip  curled  in  a  disdainful  smile,  depict  for  us  the  entire  man. 
Between  the  lines  pens  are  ranged,  punning  allusions  to  the 
pains  he  suffered.  The  whole  cell  is  decorated  in  three 
colours,  yellow  ochre,  red  brown  and  almost  blue  black, 
combined  with  the  white  of  the  walls.  It  was  with  this 
work  that  Sforza  occupied  the  interminable  hours  of  his 
solitude.  Travellers  view  these  paintings  with  curiosity 
as  if  to  probe  the  secret  thoughts  that  filled  the  bitter  heart 
of  the  dethroned  prince.  One  cannot  help  shuddering  at 
the  thought  that  the  unfortunate  Duke  of  Milan  lived  here 
for  long  years,  shut  up  in  this  in  pace  by  the  good  Louis 
XII.  However,  Ludovic  did  not  remain  forever  in  this 
cell.  Towards  the  last,  the  King  permitted  him  to  occupy 
the  upper  apartments  of  the  palace  under  surveillance  of 
some  Scottish  soldiers. 

Another  noted  prisoner  deserves  mention.  John,  lord 
of  Saint  Vallier,  father  of  Diana  of  Poictiers,  allowed  him- 
self to  be  drawn  into  the  conspiracy  of  the  Duke  of  Bour- 
bon. The  plot  was  revealed  by  Louis  de  Breze,  who  had 
no  idea  that  he  was  implicating  his  father-in-law.  Saint 
Vallier  was  arrested  and  imprisoned  in  the  Castle  of  Loches. 
From  his  prison,  September  19,  1523,  he  wrote  touching 
letters  to  his  children  begging  them  to  appeal  to  the  King 
in  his  favour.  But  Francis  I.  showed  himself  hard  and  im- 
penetrable. The  guilty  man  was  condemned  and  led  to  the 
Place  de  Greve,  more  dead  than  alive,  to  be  decapitated. 
At  the  moment  when  the  sentence  was  about  to  be  carried 


388  CHATEAU  DE  LOCHES 

out,  an  archer  came  from  the  King,  bringing,  not  a  pardon, 
but  a  commutation.  The  unfortunate  man,  whose  hair  had 
turned  white  in  a  night,  was  so  affected  by  the  preparation 
for  his  death  that  he  almost  lost  his  reason.  Ever  after- 
wards he  was  afflicted  with  a  nervous  trembling,  accom- 
panied by  fever,  which  became  known  as  the  fever  of  St. 
Vallier. 

By  a  singular  irony  of  fate,  splendid  fetes  were  held  in 
this  same  castle,  whither  so  many  wretches  came  to  groan. 
Thirty  years  had  not  elapsed  since  the  Duke  of  Milan  had 
breathed  his  last  sigh,  when  the  conqueror  of  Pavia  was 
received  at  Loches  by  him  who  there  had  lost  "  all  but 
honour."  Francis  I.,  like  a  generous  prince,  on  this  occa- 
sion displayed  extreme  magnificence :  he  came  to  meet  his 
rival,  December  12,  1539,  accompanied  by  his  queen, 
Eleanor,  and  followed  by  his  whole  court.  The  entertain- 
ments were  numerous  and  splendid,  and  only  ended  when 
the  Emperor  had  arrived  on  the  frontier  of  the  Low  Coun- 
tries. 

The  splendour  of  fetes  shone  anew  at  Loches  in  1559, 
when  Henri  II.  and  Catherine  de'Medici  passed  through 
ten  years  afterwards ;  Henri  III.,  while  still  the  Dauphin, 
stayed  there  for  several  days,  at  the  moment  when  he  was 
going  to  take  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  army  concen- 
trated in  the  environs,  on  the  eve  of  the  victory  of  Mon- 
contour.  Here  also  were  seen  Charles  IX.,  Henri  IV.  and 
Marie  de'Medici.  The  latter  was  a  fugitive,  taking  ref- 
uge here  for  a  few  moments  after  leaving  the  Castle  of 
Blois,  whence  she  had  succeeded  in  escaping.  From  that 


CHATEAU  DE  LOCHES  389 

epoch,  silence  has  invaded  the  vast  halls  and  towers,  the 
terraces  and  gardens.  Nothing  has  interrupted  it  except  the 
savage  cries  of  the  Revolution.  To-day  the  palace  of  the 
•Kings,  discrowned  and  almost  deserted,  keeps  only  the 
memory  of  magnificence  gone  forever. 


THE  PALACE  OF  BLENHEIM 
NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE 

THE  park  gate  of  Blenheim  stands  close  to  the  end  of 
the  village  street  of  Woodstock.  Immediately  on 
passing  through  its  portals,  we  saw  the  stately  palace  in  the 
distance,  but  made  a  wide  circuit  of  the  park  before  approach- 
ing it.  This  noble  park  contains  three  thousand  acres  of 
land,  and  is  fourteen  miles  in  circumference.  Having 
been,  in  part,  a  royal  domain  before  it  was  granted  to  the 
Marlborough  family,  it  contains  many  trees  of  unsurpassed 
antiquity,  and  has  doubtless  been  the  haunt  of  game  and 
deer  for  centuries.  We  saw  pheasants  in  abundance,  feed- 
ing in  the  open  lawns  and  glades ;  and  the  stags  tossed 
their  antlers  and  bounded  away,  not  affrighted,  but  only 
shy  and  gamesome,  as  we  drove  by.  It  is  a  magnificent 
pleasure-ground,  not  too  tamely  kept,  nor  rigidly  subjected 
within  rule,  but  vast  enough  to  have  lapsed  back  into  nature 
again,  after  all  the  pains  that  the  landscape-gardeners  of 
Queen  Anne's  time  bestowed  on  it,  when  the  domain  of 
Blenheim  was  scientifically  laid  out.  The  great,  knotted 
slanting  trunks  of  the  old  oaks  do  not  now  look  as  if  man 
had  much  intermeddled  with  their  growth  and  postures. 
The  trees  of  later  date,  that  were  set  out  in  the  Great 
Duke's  time,  are  arranged  on  the  plan  of  the  order  of  bat- 
tle in  which  the  illustrious  commander  ranked  his  troops  at 


THE   PALACE  OF  BLENHEIM 


39  * 


Blenheim ;  but  the  ground  covered  is  so  extensive,  and  the 
trees  now  so  luxuriant,  that  'the  spectator  is  not  disagreeably 
conscious  of  their  standing  in  military  array,  as  if  Orpheus 
had  summoned  them  together  by  beat  of  drum.  The 
effect  must  have  been  very  formal  a  hundred  and  fifty  years 
ago,  but  has  ceased  to  be  so, — although  the  trees,  I  presume, 
have  kept  their  ranks  with  even  more  fidelity  than  Marl- 
borough's  veteran's  did. 

After  driving  a  good  way,  we  came  to  a  battlemented 
tower  and  adjoining  house,  which  used  to  be  the  residence 
of  the  Ranger  of  Woodstock  Park,  who  held  charge  of 
the  property  for  the  King  before  the  Duke  of  Marlborough 
possessed  it.  The  keeper  opened  the  door  for  us,  and  in 
the  entrance  hall  we  found  various  things  that  had  to  do 
with  the  chase  and  woodland  sports.  We  mounted  the 
staircase,  through  several  stories,  up  to  the  top  of  the 
tower,  whence  there  was  a  view  of  the  spires  of  Oxford, 
and  of  points  much  farther  off, — very  indistinctly  seen, 
however,  as  is  usually  the  case  with  the  misty  distances  of 
England.  Returning  to  the  ground-floor,  we  were  ushered 
into  the  room  in  which  died  Wilmot,  the  wicked  Earl  of 
Rochester,  who  was  Ranger  of  the  Park  in  Charles's  time. 
It  is  a  low  and  bare  little  room,  with  a  window  in  front, 
and  a  smaller  one  behind ;  and  in  the  contiguous  entrance- 
room  there  are  the  remains  of  an  old  bedstead,  beneath  the 
canopy  of  which,  perhaps,  Rochester  may  have  made  the 
penitent  end  that  Bishop  Burnet  attributes  to  him.  I 
hardly  know  what  it  is,  in  this  poor  fellow's  character, 
which  affects  us  with  greater  tenderness  on  his  behalf  than 


392 


THE  PALACE  OF  BLENHEIM 


for  all  the  other  profligates  of  his  day,  who  seem  to  have 
been  neither  better  nor  worse  than  himself.  I  rather 
suspect  that  he  had  a,  human  heart  which  never  quite  died 
out  of  him,  and  the  warmth  of  which  is  still  faintly  per- 
ceptible amid  the  dissolute  trash  which  he  left  behind. 

Methinks,  if  such  good  fortune  ever  befell  a  bookish 
man,  I  should  choose  this  lodge  for  my  own  residence,  with 
the  topmost  room  of  the  tower  for  a  study,  and  all  the 
seclusion  of  cultivated  wilderness  beneath  to  ramble  in. 
There  being  no  such  possibility,  we  drove  on,  catching 
glimpses  of  the  palace  in  new  points  of  view,  and  by  and 
by  came  to  Rosamond's  Well.  The  particular  tradition 
that  connects  Fair  Rosamond  with  it  is  not  now  in  my 
memory ;  but  if  Rosamond  ever  lived  and  loved,  and  ever 
had  her  abode  in  the  maze  of  Woodstock,  it  way  well  be 
believed  that  she  and  Henry  sometimes  sat  beside  this 
spring.  It  gushes  out  from  a  bank,  through  some  old 
stone-work,  and  dashes  its  little  cascade  (about  as  abundant 
as  one  might  turn  out  of  a  large  pitcher)  into  a  pool  whence 
it  steals  away  towards  the  lake,  which  is  not  far  removed. 

Passing  through  a  gateway  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
quadrangle,  we  had  before  us  the  noble  classic  front  of  the 
palace,  with  its  two  projecting  wings.  We  ascended  the 
lofty  steps  of  the  portal,  and  were  admitted  into  the  en- 
trance-hall, the  height  of  which,  from  floor  to  ceiling,  is 
not  much  less  than  seventy  feet,  being  the  entire  elevation 
of  the  edifice.  The  hall  is  lighted  by  windows  in  the  up- 
per story,  and  it  being  a  clear  bright  day,  was  very  radiant 
with  lofty  sunshine,  amid  which  a  swallow  was  flitting  to 


THE  PALACE  OF  BLENHEIM 


393 


and  fro.  The  ceiling  was  painted  by  Sir  James  Thornhill 
in  some  allegorical  design  (doubtless  commemorative  of 
Marlborough's  victories)  the  purport  of  which  I  did  not 
take  the  trouble  to  make  out, — contenting  myself  with  the 
general  effect,  which  was  most  splendidly  and  effectively 
ornamental. 

We  were  guided  through  the  show-rooms  by  a  very  civil 
person,  who  allowed  us  to  take  pretty  much  our  own  time 
in  looking  at  the  pictures.  The  collection  is  exceedingly 
valuable, — many  of  these  works  of  Art  having  been  pre- 
sented to  the  Grand  Duke  by  the  crowned  heads  of  Eng- 
land or  the  Continent.  One  room  was  all  aglow  with  pic- 
tures by  Rubens ;  and  there  were  works  of  Raphael,  and 
many  other  famous  painters,  any  one  of  which  would  be 
sufficient  to  illustrate  the  meanest  house  that  might  contain 
it.  I  remember  none  of  them,  however  (not  being  in  a 
picture-seeing  mood),  so  well  as  Vandyck's  large  and  famil- 
iar picture  of  Charles  I.  on  horseback,  with  a  figure  and 
face  of  melancholy  dignity  such  as  never  by  any  other  hand 
was  put  on  canvas. 

After  passing  through  the  first  suite  of  rooms,  we  were 
conducted  through  a  corresponding  suite  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  entrance-hall.  These  latter  apartments  are 
most  richly  adorned  with  tapestries,  wrought  and  presented 
to  the  first  Duke  by  a  sisterhood  of  Flemish  nuns ;  they 
look  like  great,  glowing  pictures,  and  completely  cover  the 
walls  of  the  rooms.  The  designs  purport  to  represent  the 
Duke's  battles  and  sieges  ;  and  everywhere  we  see  the  hero 
himself,  as  large  as  life,  and  as  gorgeous  in  scarlet  and  gold 


394  THE  PALACE  OF  BLENHEIM 

as  the  holy  sisters  could  make  him,  with  a  three-cornered 
hat  and  flowing  wig,  reining  in  his  horse,  and  extending  his 
leading-staff  in  the  attitude  of  command.  Next  to  Marl- 
borough,  Prince  Eugene  is  the  most  prominent  figure.  In 
the  way  of  upholstery,  there  can  never  have  been  anything 
more  magnificent  than  these  tapestries  ;  and,  considered  as 
works  of  Art,  they  have  quite  as  much  merit  as  nine  pic- 
tures out  of  ten. 

One  whole  wing  of  the  palace  is  occupied  by  the  library, 
a  most  noble  room,  with  a  vast  perspective  length  from  end 
to  end. 

The  next  business  was  to  see  the  private  gardens.  An 
old  Scotch  under-gardener  admitted  us  and  led  the  way,  and 
seemed  to  have  a  fair  prospect  of  earning  the  fee  all  by 
himself;  but  by  and  by  another  respectable  Scotchman 
made  his  appearance  and  took  us  in  charge,  proving  to  be 
the  head-gardener  in  person.  He  was  extremely  intelligent 
and  agreeable,  talking  both  scientifically  and  lovingly  about 
trees  and  plants,  of  which  there  is  every  variety  capable  of 
English  cultivation.  Positively,  the  Garden  of  Eden  can- 
not have  been  more  beautiful  than  this  private  garden  of 
Blenheim.  It  contains  three  hundred  acres,  and  by  the 
artificial  circumlocution  of  the  paths,  and  the  undulations, 
and  the  skilfully  interposed  clumps  of  trees,  is  made  to  ap- 
pear limitless.  The  sylvan  delights  of  a  whole  country 
are  compressed  into  this  space,  as  whole  fields  of  Persian 
roses  go  to  the  concoction  of  an  ounce  of  precious  attar. 
The  world  within  that  garden-fence  is  not  the  same  weary 
and  dusty  world  with  which  we  outside  mortals  are  con- 


THE  PALACE  OF  BLENHEIM 


395 


versant ;  it  is  a  finer,  lovelier,  more  harmonious  Nature ; 
and  the  Great  Mother  lends  herself  kindly  to  the  gardener's 
will,  knowing  that  he  will  make  evident  the  half-obliterated 
traits  of  her  pristine  and  ideal  beauty,  and  allow  her  to  take 
all  the  credit  and  praise  to  herself.  I  doubt  whether  there 
is  ever  any  winter  within  that  precinct, — any  clouds  ex- 
cept the  fleecy  ones  of  summer.  The  sunshine  that  I  saw 
there  rests  upon  my  recollection  of  it  as  if  it  were  eternal. 
The  lawns  and  glades  are  like  the  memory  of  places 
where  one  has  wandered  when  first  in  love. 


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